


All The Wrong Friends In All The Right Places

by tookumade



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-27 07:33:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2684534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tookumade/pseuds/tookumade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Oikawa decides to hook Matsukawa and Hanamaki up, they plot to get back at him. Naturally, nothing works out as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad Good Ideas

**Author's Note:**

> This came about after seeing a writing prompt idea floating around on Tumblr. I took it and sprinted with it. My apologies if this is a little messy, but I did have a lot of fun writing it so I hope you enjoy reading!

“You know, they’d be cute together,” said Oikawa, chin in hand, and a small smile playing across his lips as he watched some students across the library.  
  
“Huh?” said Iwaizumi absently as he crossed out something on his page. “Stop people-watching and get back to studying.”  
  
“They would be though.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Mattsun and Makki.”  
  
Iwaizumi stopped his writing abruptly and stared across the library at Matsukawa and Hanamaki, who were standing near one of the shelves and poring through a small selection of books. He gave Oikawa a stony look. “ _What_ ,” he said bluntly.  
  
“Don’t you think?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“They _so_ would be!”  
  
“They’d be the most deadpan, sarcastic pair ever. They’d be worse than they are now, and it’d be a nightmare. Now stop spacing or I’ll head-butt you.”  
  
“We’re in a _library_ , Iwa-chan!”  
  
“You think that’ll stop me?”  
  
Sulking, Oikawa returned to his textbook, and Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and continued his writing.  
  
But the cogs were spinning inside Oikawa’s head. He wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
The following Sunday saw Hanamaki loitering at the entrance of the local cinema, waiting for Oikawa to show up, when he heard a familiar voice.  
  
“Hanamaki?”  
  
He looked up from his phone, his expression changing to one of surprise when he spotted Matsukawa staring back at him.  
  
“You’re watching a film, too?” asked Matsukawa.  
  
“Uh, yeah.” Hanamaki shrugged. “Oikawa said he had wanted to see some arthouse film for a while but no one else wanted to, and he wasn’t going to go by himself, so he asked me to come along… what’s that look for?”  
  
“Oikawa told me the same thing,” said Matsukawa slowly.  
  
They stared at each other in confusion.  
  
“He sent me a text message just now, saying that he was probably going to be late, and I should buy a ticket first and he’d meet me inside the theatre,” said Matsukawa.  
  
“What th–” Hanamaki frowned. “I got that message too.”  
  
Matsukawa exhaled exasperatedly. “How much of a space-case is this guy, exactly?” he said.  
  
“Dunno…” Hanamaki checked his watch. “We should get going, though. The movie’s about to start.”  
  
“Do you know what it’s about? I’ve never heard of it until today.”  
  
“Some motivational, uplifting, slice-of-life thing. At least, that’s what Oikawa said.”  
  
They bought their tickets and popcorn and entered the theatre, but by nearly half-way through the movie, Oikawa still had not shown up, and the film was definitely _not_ a motivational, uplifting, slice-of-life thing.  
  
“Even for what turned out to be a romantic drama,” said Hanamaki, deadpan, as they gave up and left the cinema just after the half-way mark, “that film was _shit_.”  
  
“I’m going to make Oikawa reimburse me for my ticket,” scowled Matsukawa. “If I wanted to take a nap and have bad dreams with corny dialogue, I wouldn’t have paid for it.”  
  
“What the hell was he thinking?”  
  
“I dunno, but he’s not answering calls, either.” Matsukawa shoved his phone back into his pocket. “We’ll ask him tomorrow.”  
  
The next day at school, they descended on Oikawa in his classroom during lunch, all glares and crossed arms and snarled lips.  
  
“I’m sorry!” he wailed with that ridiculously childish, over-the-top, semi-guilty smile of his. He was curled up in his chair with his hands in front of him, and some of his classmates were staring at the trio curiously. “I got confused! That film was the one I was going to see with the cute class representative from Class 4, I was going to take you both to see a different film, non-romantic film, I swear! I just got the dates mixed up!”  
  
“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Matsukawa demanded.  
  
Avoiding their eyes, Oikawa pouted, tapped his index fingers together meekly, and shrunk back in his chair even more.  
  
“I accidentally left it at home,” he mumbled.  
  
“ _URRGGH_ ,” said Hanamaki and Matsukawa in unison, and he cringed.  
  
“Yeah, I couldn’t meet up with the class rep either, and now she won’t talk to me.” He gave them the look of a sad, small animal, and they gave up.  
  
“You’re treating us to taiyaki after school today,” said Hanamaki. “That film was a complete waste of money.”  
  
“In fact, it was probably better that you didn’t take the class rep to see it, if you were going to have any chance with her,” added Matsukawa. Oikawa brightened.  
  
“You guys are the _best!_ ” he said, beaming.  
  
Still grumbling, they pushed him off his chair to a yelp of protest, and exited the classroom.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Saturday afternoon’s volleyball practice was a lively and refreshing session, and the third years decided to have a ramen lunch nearby when they were done, to treat themselves and to discuss their current volleyball strategies.  
  
Once Kunimi and Kindaichi had finally filed out of the school gymnasium, Iwaizumi wished them a good weekend, and locked up the doors and strolled over to meet the other third years at the school gate, but only Matsukawa and Hanamaki were there.  
  
Iwaizumi frowned. “Where’s Oikawa?’  
  
“He mentioned something about going on a date with the class rep from Class 4,” said Hanamaki.  
  
“A _date_?”  
  
“He was going to see a romantic drama film with her last week, but things happened and it didn’t work out,” said Hanamaki vaguely, glossing over the fact that he saw the film with Matsukawa. “Can’t imagine he’d give up that easily, though.”  
  
Iwaizumi stared at him blankly. “A romantic movie? With the rep from Class 4? Uh… no, she has a girlfriend already and they’re really happy together. Why would she go with Oikawa?”  
  
They stared at him blankly.  
  
“I _think_ he said Class 4,” said Matsukawa, but now with uncertainty.  
  
“Or maybe it was Class 5…” said Hanamaki.  
  
“The rep from Class 4 is dating the rep from Class 5,” said Iwaizumi impatiently.  
  
“How do you know so much?!” said Matsukawa.  
  
“Because Koriyama—the Class 5 rep—was in my project group for an English assignment two weeks ago, and she told me.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Iwaizumi frowned at them. “What’s with you guys?”  
  
“Nothing,” said Hanamaki. “Miscommunication.”  
  
“Ah, who cares anymore?” added Matsukawa hastily. “Forget Oikawa. Let’s go, I’m hungry.”  
  
Ignoring Iwaizumi’s confused stares, they made their way to a local ramen shop, and didn’t bring up Oikawa’s date or the class reps again.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
The movie saga should have been enough of an indication that something was up, but they gave Oikawa the benefit of a doubt (which was not always a good idea), and let things be.  
  
But Oikawa was a stubborn young man, and a charismatic one at that, and this was both a blessing and a curse—a curse, not so much for himself, but often for the poor suckers caught up in his schemes, which, in the past, had involved Yahaba stuck up in a tree on Shiratorizawa Academy grounds, Kindaichi stuffed into a horse costume, Hanamaki emceeing for an event at their school’s cultural festival even though he swore he wouldn’t, a third of the runners taking the wrong route during one of their semester’s marathons, and a very memorable impromptu dodgeball match with the public school four streets away, which resulted all school faculty members of both schools declaring an indefinite ban on all future dodgeball games.  
  
Oikawa was a stubborn and charismatic young man who was constantly thinking. He had an eye for detail and sharp intuition and he could read people like books, and if he thought Matsukawa and Hanamaki would be cute together, then chances were he was right (even if no one else shared this opinion). He could practically _see_ it; they had a spark that just needed some igniting, even if Iwaizumi did think they’d make a nightmare pair, but what did he know about romance?  
  
And so, Oikawa plotted. He had taken a rather large leap of faith with the movie, but it hadn’t been a complete disaster, and anyway, it was a thing of the past. Now? Now, he had to work slowly and inconspicuously. He could definitely do that when he needed to.  
  
Which was why whenever Oikawa was with them (which was increasingly often), Matsukawa and Hanamaki would find themselves next to each other. They’d be walking beside each other in between classes and to and from volleyball practice. During lunch, they’d be seated next to each other. When studying at the library, they’d be crammed elbow-to-elbow at the tables.  
  
No one thought anything of it, and Hanamaki and Matsukawa barely even noticed; those two were good friends and hung out often after all, so it wasn’t unusual to be in each other’s company, and this inconspicuousness suited Oikawa just fine. But after nearly two weeks of this, he decided that it was time to amp things up just a little.  
  
On Tuesday in the school library, he pinched Matsukawa’s phone when Matsukawa had strolled off to look up something in the library’s database.  
  
“Makki! _Makki!_ Look!” he hissed to Hanamaki, who glanced up from his textbook and smirked when he saw Oikawa waving the phone around. They took more than two dozen selfies of themselves making ridiculous faces at the camera or poking at Iwaizumi, who was doing his best to ignore them, though Oikawa was careful to make sure that he took more solo photos of Hanamaki. When Matsukawa returned to reclaim his phone from Oikawa, the schemer was pleased to note that he didn’t delete the photos right away. Whether or not he did so later on, Oikawa couldn’t check, but it was a start.  
  
On Wednesday, he did the same with Hanamaki’s phone right before volleyball practice. He made sure that Matsukawa was the one holding onto the phone last, just in time for Hanamaki to return from retrieving his kneepads from the clubroom. Oikawa watched, delighted, as they wrestled for the phone, laughing and yelling, spurred on by their teammates, until the coaching staff arrived and practice begun. For the entire session, Hanamaki and Matsukawa seemed more spirited than usual. They were every bit as snarky as they always were, but they smiled more and there was more play-fighting between them.  
  
On Friday, Matsukawa had borrowed Hanamaki’s dictionary and forgotten to return it by the end of the day. Oikawa offered to place it in Hanamaki’s shoe locker, along with (not to Matsukawa’s knowledge) a small packet of his favourite brand of chewing gum. None of them mentioned it afterwards, but when Hanamaki showed up to Saturday’s practice session, a gum wrapper fell out of his pocket without him noticing. Oikawa tossed it in the bin, grinning.  
  
Throughout the rest of the week and the next, Oikawa worked at this level of patience. For volleyball club-related errands, Oikawa sent them off together. When Hanamaki got half-way through school with a bad headache, Oikawa, through mindful use of words, managed to get Matsukawa offering to take him to see the school nurse. When Matsukawa scored rather poorly on a kanji pop-quiz, Oikawa carefully reminded him that Hanamaki was a decent hand at kanji knowledge, so why not ask him for some help? (Matsukawa scored quite well on the next kanji pop-quiz after that.)  
  
Oikawa was subtle and casual enough about things that even Iwaizumi didn’t notice anything unusual, but perhaps the best part was, whether subconsciously or not, that Hanamaki and Matsukawa now fell into step with each other automatically and sat next to each other at tables without Oikawa deciding the seating arrangements beforehand.  
  
“Yesss,” Oikawa mumbled to himself after he had retreated to his room upon returning from school. He tossed a volleyball up and down for several minutes, just thinking. Things were working out well, but he needed _more_. How should he go about igniting the spark? What would push them to make it work?  
  
He thought and thought and ran scenarios in his head… and then an idea finally struck him. He sat still for a while with the volleyball in his hands, thinking about the possible outcomes, the best and worst case scenarios, and the chances of them happening, the chances of them finding out and killing him for it (low, if things went according to the simulation in his head), and even Iwaizumi’s possible involvement.  
  
He smiled.  
  
It was time to take another leap of faith.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
It was late afternoon on a Sunday, and Matsukawa sat in a café downtown, foot tapping restlessly.  
  
It was a cosy and warm café, but noisy, and the air was thick with the smell of coffee, and it was beginning to make him feel a little queasy. Oikawa had sent him a text message, saying he’d be ten minutes late, but that was nearly fifteen minutes ago, and he wasn’t answering his phone again. The café staff kept flittering around and asking him if he wanted anything other than his flat white, which was half drunk and getting colder by the minute. He was contemplating leaving when he heard someone say his name.  
  
“Matsukawa?”  
  
That wasn’t Oikawa’s voice. He looked up and saw Hanamaki staring back at him, frowning slightly.  
  
“What are you doing here?” they said in unison.  
  
“Oikawa invited me for coffee,” they replied.  
  
“Huh?” they both said.  
  
Before they could say anything else, one of the waitresses nearby practically swept Hanamaki into the seat opposite Matsukawa, and planted a menu in front of him. Defeatedly, he ordered a latte.  
  
“I have so much homework to catch up on,” Hanamaki grumbled as he stirred his coffee, “but Oikawa made a whole big deal about spending quality time together because we apparently hadn’t for a while. I don’t know how he managed to convince me…” He caught the look on Matsukawa’s face, and he groaned. “ _Don’t_ tell me he told you the same thing.”  
  
“Okay,” said Matsukawa, sipping his coffee. “I won’t.”  
  
“The _hell_. ”  
  
“He’s either the world’s biggest airhead, or he’s planning something… or both.” Matsukawa looked around whilst shifting in his seat uncomfortably, before saying, “You know, this café…”  
  
“…is actually quite… cutesy,” said Hanamaki.  
  
“I think those girls at the corner table are staring at us.”  
  
“The couple at the table near the pot plant are, too.”  
  
“So are the couple near the window.”  
  
“There are a lot of couples and girls in this café.”  
  
“Why did Oikawa choose this place?”  
  
“Well, he could probably pick up a lot of girls.”  
  
“True. But then, why did we get dragged along?”  
  
“And why is he not here, and passing up a chance for girls to fawn over him?”  
  
There was a long pause, then as one, their gazes fell onto a small sandwich board near their table that they had somehow previously missed, which read in bright letters, ' _SPECIAL DEALS FOR COUPLES! Take a selfie with yourselves holding hands, and you could be in the draw to win a gift voucher!_ '

They stared at each other with realisation hitting them over the head like a stray volleyball.  
  
“I’m going to kill him,” said Matsukawa.  
  
“Not if I get to him first,” said Hanamaki.  
  
“I cannot _believe_ that asshole.”  
  
“I can. This is definitely something he’d do.”  
  
“Why are we still here?”  
  
“Because we bought coffee, and this shit is _expensive_ and I don’t know about you, but I am not going to waste my money by leaving it.”  
  
Crankily, they drink their coffee, all the while discussing ways with which to dispose of Oikawa.  
  
“Tell his parents that he eloped, and then dump him somewhere remote.”  
  
“Tie him to a tree on Mount Fuji for the winter, and then leave him.”  
  
“Tell him he’s actually _really_ un-photogenic.”  
  
“Oh, that’s cold. That might actually work.”  
  
“No, wait…” Matsukawa said slowly. “Why don’t we play pretend?” When Hanamaki raised an eyebrow at him, he said, “Listen…”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
They cornered Iwaizumi during lunch, and explained their situation to him. He stared from one to the other and looked as though a migraine was forming.  
  
“He told me in the library once that he thought that you two would be ‘kinda cute together’,” said Iwaizumi, one hand now pressed over his eyes. “I thought he was joking, and he didn’t bring it up again, so I let it go. I didn’t think he would actually try and _hook you two up_. Oh, god, I’m so sorry.”  
  
“Yeah, we kinda put that together,” said Matsukawa. “We figured if he was going to go through this much effort, he’d tell you _something_.”  
      
“And that if you found out, there’s no way you’d let it happen,” added Hanamaki. “But it turns out he actually knows how to keep his mouth shut. Who knew?”  
  
“I appreciate your trust,” said Iwaizumi wearily. “So what now?”  
  
“We have a plan,” said Matsukawa. And they told him what it was. By the time they were done, Iwaizumi looked like his migraine had doubled in intensity.  
  
“Okay, so, once again,” he said slowly. “The two of you will pretend to hook up thanks to Oikawa…”  
  
“Uh-huh,” said Hanamaki.  
  
“And after a bit of time, have a huge fight…”  
  
“That’s right.” Matsukawa nodded.  
  
“And as a result, have a really messy, fake break-up…”  
  
“Go on,” said Hanamaki.  
  
“And you’ll pretend it’s all Oikawa’s fault, just so you can freak him out.”  
  
“The alternatives were either killing him, or shipping him off to some remote island,” said Matsukawa. “This seemed to be less career-ending.”  
  
“We need your help to make this more believable,” added Hanamaki.  
  
Iwaizumi shook his head. “Amazing,” he said, deadpan. “I’ll give you points for creativity.”  
  
“So, what do you think?” asked Matsukawa. With arms folded over their chests, they stared at him expectantly.  
  
Iwaizumi sighed. “I think it’s a terrible idea,” he said, “but I like it, so let’s do it.”  
  
  



	2. Boyfriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me over two months to update this, but I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, so hooooopefully you'll enjoy reading as much as I did writing! ( TヮT)  
> THANK YOU for your kind comments and kudos, everyone!! <3 <3 <3

Coming up with the plan was one thing, but executing it was another matter entirely, and Matsukawa and Hanamaki both realised they had no idea how to go about things. They cornered Iwaizumi at lunch again the next day.  
  
“We don’t know how to start,” said Hanamaki. “Any suggestions?”  
  
Iwaizumi took a long, loud sip of his juice box whilst staring at them with a look of confusion and impatience usually reserved for Oikawa. “Um… hold hands whenever he sees you?”  
  
They made noises of dissent. He roll his eyes at them and tossed his juice box away. “You guys were the ones who came up with this plan. I’m just the enabler. Look, pretend I’m Oikawa–”  
  
“We can’t, or you’d be dead in the next two minutes,” said Matsukawa.  
  
“–pretend I’m Oikawa, and practise in front of me. Stand close to each other. Hold hands.”  
  
Grumbling, they edged towards each other slightly.  
  
“Closer. _Closer._ No, you– ugh, that’ll have to do. Now, hold hands. Raise your arms at the elbow; Matsukawa, your right, and Hanamaki, your left. Your _other left._ Guys, come on, this isn’t rocket science.”  
  
“You’re enjoying this,” said Hanamaki flatly.  
  
“Trust me, you both look like you’d rather pull out your own teeth, so no, not really.”  
  
Their arms bumped against each other’s as though they were still trying to figure out how limbs worked. Iwaizumi made an exasperated noise. “Just… pretend you’re arm wrestling, okay? Only, you know, with opposite hands, at a different angle, and without the table or the wrestling bit.”  
  
They finally joined hands.  
  
“I can’t believe that worked,” Iwaizumi muttered under his breath.  
  
“Now what?” said Matsukawa brusquely.  
  
“Now, you…” Iwaizumi stared at them and they stared back at him, standing about a metre away from each other, jaws clenched, and holding hands like they were holding cockroaches. Iwaizumi’s stoic expression crumbled, and despite his initial exasperation, he cracked up laughing.  
  
“Yo-o–ou both look constipated,” he wheezed. They let go of hands immediately.  
  
“You’re not helping, asshole!” Hanamaki barked.  
  
“Let’s get out of here, we’re done practising for today,” Matsukawa scowled, and he and Hanamaki stomped off, leaving Iwaizumi doubling over and wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Oikawa was pleased.  
  
The very fact that neither Matsukawa nor Hanamaki had given him grief for standing them both up at the café on Sunday—had not brought it up at all—was an indication that they had figured out what was going on and were plotting something in retaliation, and pretending they weren’t.  
  
All according to plan.  
  
Now, according to what Oikawa was pretty sure was _their_ plan, he just had to sit back and watch them act like a couple—perhaps they would start off by holding hands, he thought with a grin. Yes, that would be _adorable_ —and later down the track, he predicted that they would also very likely try to get back at him by pretending to break up so he’d be upset and think everything was his fault for trying to hook them up in the first place. That was fine, he’d deal with that if the time came, because if he was lucky, it wouldn’t. Honestly, he was more worried about not being able to act convincingly surprised to hear that about them ‘breaking up’ when the time called for it.  
  
Oh well. Either way, things would work out, and they would end up realising they actually harboured romantic feelings for each other, just like Oikawa knew they did, and they would become a couple for real, and the spark would finally ignite and hopefully burn strong.  
  
Because even after figuring out half of what Oikawa was up to, Matsukawa and Hanamaki still fell into step with each other and sat next to each other at tables, though whether or not they still did this subconsciously, or consciously to fit it with their plan, Oikawa couldn’t be sure. That was fine, though—that was more than fine.  
  
They would probably drag Iwa-chan into their plan too, and he would probably go along with it out of guilt for not picking up on Oikawa’s plan earlier, obligation because he was a good friend to them, or just for the hell of it because Iwa-chan was silly like that sometimes, and it was probably going to be a fun plan. Either way, that was also fine; Oikawa didn’t mind sharing him, and if things went well, Iwa-chan would end up helping them get together too, and then he would _know_ Oikawa was right.  
  
Oikawa sighed happily.  
  
His friends were _so_ cute.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Matsukawa and Hanamaki continued to practise holding hands, and Iwaizumi occasionally practised holding back his laughter whenever he watched them try.  
  
“Yeah, that looks… slightly more natural,” he said with an unconvinced nod, three days after their first attempt. “At least you guys don’t look so constipated anymore.”  
  
“ _SHUT UP_.”  
  
“Now you just have to keep this up around Oikawa,” he continued. “Don’t be too obvious about it, though. Also, you’ll need to start calling each other ‘boyfriends’ soon. No, don’t look at me like that, you jerks; _you guys_ came up with this plan, remember? Commit to it or drop it, but don’t sic this on me.”  
  
Unfortunately, he had a point and neither Matsukawa nor Hanamaki could think of ways to retort, and by the shit-eating grin spreading across his face, Iwaizumi knew it too.  
  
“Do you reckon we could bury him along with Oikawa?” said Matsukawa stonily, squinting at Iwaizumi.  
  
“Sounds like a plan,” said Hanamaki.  
  
Iwaizumi’s grin widened, and he put his hands on his hips, and cocked his head to the side. “What, you think I couldn’t take you both on, height difference and all? Try me, assholes,” he said.  
  
They all stared at each other. Iwaizumi was barely keeping it together.  
  
“No, I didn’t think so,” he said. “Come on, relax a bit and try to have some fun with this. You might as well. It’ll be worth it… maybe.”  
  
And it wasn’t bad advice, either. But naturally, being Matsukawa and Hanamaki, they had to do things their own way, refusing to give Iwaizumi (and by extension, Oikawa) the benefit of being too right.  
  
At Saturday afternoon’s volleyball practice, before the others had arrived at the gymnasium, Matsukawa entered the clubroom early to find Iwaizumi and Hanamaki, who had been discussing their latest maths test.  
  
“Hey, boyfriend,” said Matsukawa with an incredibly deadpan look on his face as he handed Hanamaki a paper bag. “My mother said to give your family this ponzu sauce she made, plus these little black sesame cake things she bought the other day, they’re both really nice.”  
  
“Oh,” said Hanamaki, equally deadpan as he took the bag and peered inside. “Tell her we said thanks, boyfriend. I’ll past them onto my parents.”  
  
“No problem, boyfriend.”  
  
“What the hell are you doing?” said Iwaizumi, looking torn between cracking up and being utterly mortified.  
  
“We’re taking your advice and calling each other boyfriends,” said Matsukawa, still deadpan. “It’s really working. We are so close and boyfriend-ish. Isn’t that right, boyfriend?”  
  
“Absolutely, boyfriend.”  
  
“ _Stop_ , I’m so sorry, please don’t do that,” said Iwaizumi, now clutching onto his locker door for support.  
  
“It’s too late for apologies,” said Hanamaki. “We’ve sunk so deep.”  
  
“I will go to hell and back with you, boyfriend.”  
  
“Thanks, boyfriend. I’m swooning. You can’t tell, but I’m really swooning.”  
  
“Holy shit, you guys are the most unromantic couple ever,” Iwaizumi wheezed. “I have no idea why Oikawa thinks you’re cute, what the f–”  
  
“Are you kidding? We’re _adorable_ ,” Hanamaki droned.  
  
“Yeah, look, see?” Matsukawa grabbed Hanamaki’s hand, and they swung them between themselves in exaggerated fashion. “ _Super_ cute.”  
  
“ _Stop that!_ ”  
  
“It’s work in progress, so we’ll practise it and keep you very closely updated,” said Hanamaki as they let go of hands. “By the way, do you have any ideas on how we should do the break-up thing?”  
  
“ _Seriously?_ You’re both so bad at acting like a couple, how the hell are you going to pull off a fake break-up?! But, I guess this is why you’re both in the volleyball team, and not the drama club.”  
  
Matsukawa threw a towel at him.  
  
(“He has a point,” Hanamaki muttered gloomily once Iwaizumi was out of earshot.)  
  
  


* * *

  
  
They kept practising over the next few days, but not much progress was made. Hand-holding was still awkward, but Iwaizumi did reassure them (whilst unable to hide his snickering) that they were slowly getting better at it, “maybe”.  
  
And while the two of them were pretty sure Oikawa didn’t know of their plan to get back at him (oh, these darling naïve children), they could tell that he knew that something was happening, judging by the way he snuck glances at them and tried to fight back smiles whenever they were all together. It was all Matsukawa and Hanamaki could do to keep from caving and tying him to a tree on Mount Fuji for the winter.  
  
“He hasn’t said a thing about all this, but somehow that seems to make him even more infuriating,” Hanamaki hissed to Matsukawa on their way to school in the morning.  
  
“I can’t take much more of this,” Matsukawa groaned, running his hands over his face. “We need to make a start by holding hands in front of him _soon_ , or we’ll be stuck at this point forever.”  
  
“Throw ourselves in the deep end, huh?”  
  
“We’ve practised enough, we should be okay… right?”  
  
Hanamaki shrugged helplessly. “How about we try today, at volleyball practice?”  
  
“All right then.”  
  
Annoyingly, the end of school came faster than either of them would have liked, and they soon found themselves facing the gymnasium and feeling quite unprepared.  
  
“Okay, it’s now or never. Give me your hand,” said Matsukawa, holding out his. Hanamaki took a deep breath, and they joined hands, looked at each other with determination usually reserved for particularly difficult volleyball matches, nodded once, and took two steps towards the gymnasium before Hanamaki made a noise of frustration and yanked his hand from Matsukawa’s.  
  
“No, _dammit_ , this isn’t working! We look like grade school kids holding hands because their parents forced them to! We’re supposed to be… to be…”  
  
“Like a couple,” finished Matsukawa with a sigh.  
  
“Exactly. We need to be _natural_ about this,” said Hanamaki. “We need to _study_ … like, observe other couples or something, see how the hell they do this crap. Maybe we can start by watching people in school.”  
  
“So… you’re suggesting we stare at couples making eyes at each other? Do you realise how creepy that sounds?”  
  
“Could you not put it that way?”  
  
They aborted their mission for today, and decided to give Hanamaki’s idea a try. Over the next few days, whenever one of them spotted a couple in the library, or in corridors during lunch breaks or before or after school, they’d stop to mentally take notes and watch them from a distance whilst trying to pretend they weren’t, and twice they ended up a little late to their classes because of this. But through repetition, couple-study (which was what Hanamaki had begun calling it) become predictable fairly quickly, and wasn’t much help to either of them.  
  
They observed that numerous girls would tuck their hair behind their ears and smile sweetly, and this couldn’t work for either of them because neither had hair long enough (Hanamaki’s certainly wasn’t, and Matsukawa’s hair simply did whatever the hell it wanted), nor smiles sweet enough (when they tried to throw so-called sweet smiles at each other, all they did was send them choking with laughter). The boys on the other hand would typically stand at fullest height and some looked as though they thought they were god’s gift to women, which also didn’t help because both Hanamaki and Matsukawa were already ridiculously tall and towered over a majority of their classmates, and a lot of the time, they were distracted by how much second-hand embarrassment came from watching some of the cockier guys.  
  
“I almost got into a fight with some junior high kid yesterday,” Hanamaki reported as they walked to school in the morning. “I was waiting for my mother outside the bank, and watching the kid and his girlfriend doing some really terrible flirting. He saw me and thought I wanted his girl, so he went over to me and tried to pick a fight.”  
  
“Did you actually fight with him?”  
  
“Hell no! He was probably only about thirteen, fourteen at worst? All I had to do was stand up and he backed right off, he only went up to shoulder-height compared to me.”  
  
“Wow, crushing thirteen-year-old egos. I’m so proud of you,” said Matsukawa sarcastically.  
  
Hanamaki shrugged. “All I did was stand up.”  
  
“Did you learn anything?”  
  
“Only that if a guy was staring at you and he was more than a head taller than me, I’m not sure how I’d handle things, but it would probably end badly.”  
  
“For you?”  
  
“For _him!_ Jeez, give me some credit, will you?”  
  
Matsukawa snickered as Hanamaki shoved him.  
  
“So you’d defend my honour, huh? That’s _so_ romantic,” he teased, grinning.  
  
“Don’t get used to it,” Hanamaki grumbled. “And I fully expect you to deck the other guy if he was looking at me funny, too.”  
  
“But I’m such a pacifist.”  
  
“Then I’ll just dump your useless ass. Speaking of, we still need ideas on what we should do for our break-up act.”  
  
“Come on, we don’t need to think about that yet. Iwaizumi’s right, we haven’t even got the couples thing sorted out. One step at a time.”  
  
They continued their couple-study, but it was only towards the end of their second week of it, that they finally found their much-needed inspiration.  
  
Matsukawa dropped heavily into the chair opposite Hanamaki when he was at the library and doing non-couple-study, which made him jump and look up in surprise.  
  
“We’re going about this the completely wrong way,” said Matsukawa without so much as a hello. “You know which pair would be a good point of reference?”  
  
“Which?”  
  
“Oikawa and Iwaizumi.”  
  
Hanamaki’s eyes widened. “ _Genius_ ,” he breathed.  
  
That was how they took to carefully observing Oikawa and Iwaizumi to take notes.

And it helped.

Frankly, it was quite ridiculous that they never really realised just _how much_ like a married couple those two acted on a regular basis. They knew they did, of course—anyone would within five minutes of meeting them both, but Hanamaki and Matsukawa supposed they had just gotten so used to it over the years, that they never really thought about it until observing them closely. Now, it was ridiculously _blatant_ just how comfortable they were with each other. Iwaizumi barely blinked whenever Oikawa dropped down to sit beside him, jostling him with elbows and knees, and head-butting his shoulder on the occasion when he didn’t pay him attention, to which Iwaizumi would either absently pat his hair or head-butt him back, depending on his mood. Oikawa generally had absolutely no qualms invading Iwaizumi’s personal space (and Iwaizumi didn’t seem to mind it either), although to be honest, whether this was because it was specifically _Iwaizumi’s_ personal space, or because that was just the kind of person Oikawa could be sometimes, they weren’t really sure.  
  
When Oikawa discovered that he had left his juice box at home one lunchtime, Iwaizumi spent a solid three minutes lecturing him about staying properly hydrated (“It’s just _one juice box,_ Iwa-chan! We have drinking fountains all around the school!”) before shoving his own half-drunk carton in Oikawa’s face and snapping at him to _take it or so help me I will force-feed you do you hear me._ Matsukawa and Hanamaki watched, fascinated, as a small genuine smile lit up Oikawa’s face and he finished off the juice happily, and Iwaizumi turned his attention back to devouring his melon bread as though nothing else bothered him.  
  
When Iwaizumi left one of his English textbooks at home one day, it was Oikawa’s turn to ham it up and lecture him about being properly prepared, to which Iwaizumi beaned him with his eraser and Oikawa complained about his perfect hair being messed up for the day, _you troglodyte! Look, there’s a stray strand of hair! But because I, the great Oikawa-san, am as gracious as I am gorgeous, I will offer to lend my copy to you until your class is over._ To this, Iwaizumi gave a surprisingly defeated sigh with a hint of both fondness and exasperation, and promised he’d return it as soon as he could, _thanks, now stop smirking like this is a regular occurrence, you dumbass._  
  
“I’m getting mental whiplash just listening to them. I have no idea how they deal with themselves every day,” said Matsukawa flatly at the start of volleyball practice, one week into observing Oikawa and Iwaizumi. Beside him, Hanamaki just grunted and nodded tiredly in agreement and took a sip from his water bottle, even though practice hadn’t even begun yet. “Oh, there they go again.”  
  
They watched as Oikawa jogged up to Iwaizumi, who was flipping through some paperwork.  
  
“Iwa-chaaan!” Oikawa called out in a sing-song voice. Iwaizumi didn’t even turn around as their captain draped an arm around him and rested his chin on his shoulder and quietly spoke about whatever he wanted to discuss with him.  
  
Hanamaki and Matsukawa looked at each other.  
  
“Mattsuuun,” said Hanamaki in an utterly deadpan voice, and Matsukawa gave a violent snort of laughter.  
  
“Don’t,” he wheezed. “That sounds completely horrible coming from you.”  
  
“Uwaaa, Mattsuuun, you’re so _meeean_.” Hanamaki pawed at him whilst keeping his deadpan tone, and Matsukawa jumped away from him. “Mattsuuuuun, come baaack–”  
  
“Get away from me, you asshole!”  
  
“Maaattsuuun–”  
  
Matsukawa laughing so hard that he was doubling over and could barely fight back when Hanamaki seized him in a headlock. “Kyaaa, I caught you, Mattsuuun–”  
  
“ _Holy shit, stop!_ ”  
  
“What’s so funny?”  
  
They both looked up to see Oikawa and Iwaizumi now standing close by and staring at them in bemusement. Hanamaki and Matsukawa exchanged looks again, and as one, fell over each other, howling.  
  
The nicknames never really caught on, unless Hanamaki was throwing ‘Mattsuuun’ out in that same voice as a way to get Matsukawa convulsing with laughter, which was really quite easy to do, and satisfyingly so. Matsukawa laughing made Hanamaki laugh, and the exasperated faces Oikawa and Iwaizumi threw at them did not help them in the slightest. Together, they couldn’t really get anything done.  
  
Giving up on nicknames, they stuck to addressing each other by family names, until one day at the start of another volleyball practice when they and Iwaizumi had arrived at the gymnasium early again, and Hanamaki challenged Iwaizumi to an arm-wrestling contest.  
  
“Are you _sure_ you’re ready to lose for the hundredth-something time in a row?” Iwaizumi goaded him, rolling up his sleeves and showing off his biceps as they sat down at one of the tables in the storeroom.  
  
“I’m feeling good about my chances today, so prepare to be _destroyed_.”  
  
“Chance is all you’ve got, buddy.”  
  
“Talking big for someone who’s not even one hundred and eighty centimetres tall, aren’t you?”  
  
Iwaizumi kicked him under the table.  
  
With smirks plastered across their faces, they gripped hands and rested their elbows on the table’s surface, and Matsukawa stood by to oversee the competition.  
  
“Okay, ready? And… go!”  
  
Veins throbbed in their temples and their arms as Iwaizumi and Hanamaki did their best to push the others’ hands down, but it was clear that Iwaizumi had the (literal) upper hand and Hanamaki was struggling. Again.  
  
“Oi, Hanamaki, are you trying to impress me?” said Matsukawa dryly. “Because you’re not doing a very good job. You look seriously uncool right now.”  
  
“ _Shut it, you asshole! You’re not helping!_ ”  
  
“Oh, you want me to help you? Okay. Hey, Iwaizumi, you hussy, that’s my boyfriend’s hand you’re holding.”  
  
They both burst out laughing. Hanamaki tried to use this chip in Iwaizumi’s armour to win, but he was also cracking up too hard, and Iwaizumi still held on firmly, and after a few more seconds, slammed their hands down on the table and gave a whoop of victory.  
  
“ _Dammit!_ ” Hanamaki shouted after nearly tumbling off his stool.  
  
Matsukawa gave an exaggerated sigh and said, “God, you’re so embarrassing, picking fights with everyone. I can’t take you anywhere.”  
  
“What the hell kind of supportive boyfriend are you meant to be, _Issei?_ You suck at this!”  
  
“Oh no, trouble in paradise,” said Iwaizumi, snickering. “Get out of here, you two, don’t drag me into your lover’s quarrels.”  
  
“Ugh, we are _never_ coming to you for marriage counselling,” Hanamaki snarked.  
  
“ _Get out!_ Go set up the nets!”  
  
“Aye-aye, sir.” And Hanamaki grabbed Matsukawa’s collar and dragged him out into the gymnasium, not noticing the way Matsukawa had stopped smiling and now looked slightly awkward.  
  
Despite losing to Iwaizumi in arm-wrestling again, Hanamaki was in a good mood and in good form, and powered through whatever tosses came his way and managed several very nice receives. Matsukawa watched him with a funny spasm in his stomach that he couldn’t quite figure out.  
  
_Issei_ , his name in Hanamaki’s voice rang through his mind over and over again throughout the practice, and it was incredibly distracting. Only his parents and relatives and some friends of his parents ever called him Issei. Hearing it come from Hanamaki, even if it was meant to be a joke, was… different.  
  
“MATSUKAWA!”  
  
At the sound of Iwaizumi bellowing his surname—the more familiar name with his peers—he snapped out of it and managed to react fast enough to receive one of Oikawa’s killer serves straight to the chest, which winded him briefly. Swearing under his breath, he straightened up, ready for the next move. He had to focus or he’d be knocked out next.  
  
The rest of practice was nothing too out of the ordinary, but the way Matsukawa spaced out and was quieter than usual did not go unnoticed by Oikawa, because he never missed a damn thing. During their drink break, he pulled Matsukawa aside.  
  
“Mattsun, are you okay? You’ve been quiet today and you’re not calling out as much.”  
  
_Are you seriously asking me if I’m okay, Hanamaki and I are doing this ridiculous thing where we hold hands and call each other boyfriends and this is all your fault, you and your stupid romance movies and cutesy couple cafés, and you’re asking me if I’m okay–_  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Matsukawa lightly with an impassive expression. “It’s just been a long day. I’ll call out more, don’t worry.”  
  
Oikawa nodded, but didn’t quite look fully convinced. Nothing ever got past him, which was very inconvenient sometimes. “Let me know if you need to sit out for a bit.”  
  
Part of Matsukawa was grateful to Oikawa for his concern (because he _was_ a good friend, even if he was exasperating at times), and part of him still felt like shipping him off to a remote island on the other side of the world. Either way, today’s practice needed to end, and soon.  
  
He couldn’t quite figure out what was bothering him so much—it was Hanamaki calling him Issei, yes, but _why?_ It wasn’t until the last practice match of the day, when Hanamaki passed the ball to him whilst calling him ‘Matsukawa’, that he figured it out.  
  
He liked Hanamaki calling him _Issei_ better.  
  
Yep, practice definitely needed to end. _Right now._  
  
Matsukawa spiked the ball over the net and it hit Watari’s forearms and went out of bounds, winning them the set. Hanamaki hissed a “ _yesss!_ ” and slapped him a low-five, and Matsukawa’s stomach gave another little spasm that he didn’t understand. He was getting more and more perplexed by the minute, and frankly, it was a little tiring.  
  
Practice finally finished and everyone packed up the volleyball equipment, changed out of their uniforms, then said their goodbyes for the day. Matsukawa and Hanamaki fell into step with each other as they left the school and walked for a few minutes down the street in silence, and though this wasn’t usually anything to be worried about, there was a tension about them that Hanamaki was confused by and disliked. After a while, he noticed that Matsukawa was walking somewhat stiffly and staring at the ground.  
  
Slowing down slightly until he was walking behind him, Hanamaki kicked the back of his knee which made Matsukawa’s leg buckle, and he stumbled and turned to give him an indignant look.  
  
“What was that for?” Matsukawa spluttered.  
  
“What’re you so quiet about? You’ve barely said a thing all through practice.”  
  
“I’m not quiet.”  
  
Hanamaki looked at him with skeptically and raised an eyebrow, and Matsukawa broke eye contact hastily and stared straight ahead. They walked for a little more in silence before Matsukawa said, in a mumble more than anything, “You called me Issei.”  
  
Hanamaki stared at him in surprise. “Yeah. So?”  
  
“You’ve never called me Issei before.”  
  
“I was… I was joking around, Matsukawa. You were too.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Matsukawa tried to sound casual, but unconvincingly so. “It was just… I didn’t expect it.”  
  
There was a slightly uncomfortable silence. Matsukawa had an odd look on his face, and Hanamaki realised with a little jolt after a while, that it was… disappointment.  
  
He gave a snort of laughter and elbowed Matsukawa in the ribs, causing him to grunt in pain.  
  
“I can call you Issei again if it makes you happy, dumbass,” he said, grinning. Matsukawa smiled back wryly whilst massaging his ribs, and both were relieved to find the tension was gone.  
  
“If you like,” said Matsukawa, “ _Takahiro_.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
It was perhaps the use of given names that changed things for them both, allowing them to settle into their couples act a little more easily. They had to practise a little at first, of course—for the first few days, they kept switching between family names and given names, until finally their given names began rolling off their tongues much more naturally.  
  
“ _Issei_ ,” Hanamaki would say in a sing-song voice as he approached him when they met to walk to school in the morning.  
  
“ _Takahiro_ ,” Matsukawa would reply, not quite so sing-song and slightly more sarcastically, but it made them both grin.  
  
(Occasionally, Hanamaki would mutter “Mattsuuun”, and Matsukawa would try to shove him into a nearby bush.)  
  
They began calling each other by their given names at school and at volleyball practice, too. The first time they did that at practice had been met with stunned silence from everyone else except for Iwaizumi, who broke out into a coughing fit whilst drinking from his water bottle. None of them had ever used given names to address each other before, so this was remarkable, and Matsukawa and Hanamaki knew this was helpful to their charade, so they kept it up.  
  
They finally made progress with their hand-holding mission, too. Iwaizumi had suggested they be more subtle about it, rather than be outright and obvious, so they tried this approach. On the way to volleyball practice, they hooked their fingers together and quickly let go as soon as Oikawa looked up at them, as though they didn’t want him to see (the first time they did this, Oikawa made a high-pitched noise and sprinted away to hide in the storage room whilst grinning widely, and only reappeared when Iwaizumi stomped over and dragged him out by the collar); during their lunch breaks, they’d sit next to each other and rest their hands on the ground with their fingers just lightly touching; when they studied at the library with Oikawa and Iwaizumi, they sat shoulder-to-shoulder and held hands under the table rather than display them for everyone who looked twice at their table. Oikawa kept sneaking looks at them and got far less homework done than usual, which earned him a few light cuffs over the head from Iwaizumi with some rolled-up worksheets.  
  
Though they didn’t hold hands unless they were around Oikawa, the progress was encouraging, and Oikawa’s reactions were even more so. But they still had a long way to go, so they continued to study him and Iwaizumi together discreetly, because honestly, though they knew they’d never reach those two’s level of old-married-couple-ness, they did still pick up many hints.  
  
Another such example was when they noted that Oikawa sometimes rested his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder and looked very comfortable, and they had a best-of-three rock-paper-scissors competition to see who would be the Iwaizumi and who would be the Oikawa of this scenario. Matsukawa was the Iwaizumi, so Hanamaki slouched a little to rest his head on his new pillow. And honestly, the weight was kind of nice on Matsukawa. It was not very heavy, just a little uncomfortable at first, but he supposed they’d get over it eventually, like with calling each other by their given names.  
  
“Oi, don’t fall asleep.”  
  
“Too late. Wow, you’re _really_ comfortable. How have I never done this before now?”  
  
“Don’t get used to it, I’m thinking of charging by the minute.”  
  
“ _Stingy_.”  
  
As the days went on, Matsukawa and Hanamaki were indeed starting to get more and more used to the close contact. Even before their couples act, they had been unfazed by simpler things like standing elbow-to-elbow with each other or arms slung over shoulders, but now that they had moved onto hand-holding and resting heads on shoulders, they had to keep going and take things to another level for the sake of their charade, acting couple-y whenever they were around Oikawa, and for the sake of feeling more natural, when they _weren’t_ around him, too.  
  
And they found that after a while, neither of them minded.  
  
At volleyball practice or during lunch breaks, after their occasional (and increasingly frequent) play-fights, Matsukawa would hold onto Hanamaki’s wrist for a little longer than was necessary, or Hanamaki would take just a little too long to release the fistful of Matsukawa’s shirt that he had been holding onto. When on the bus to and from practice matches, they would sit next to each other and have an unspoken race to see who could rest their head on the other’s shoulder first, which usually resulted in them accidentally knocking their heads together, or Hanamaki winning (and _maybe_ Matsukawa letting him win sometimes).  
  
Hanamaki had also taken to occasionally stealing bits of Matsukawa’s food straight from his hand (“That’s what couples do, right?” “Dumbass, you just want free food.”); Matsukawa would be holding onto some sort of snack or bread, then look away for maybe two or three seconds, and then find a large bite from it that he didn’t remember taking. He would look up to see Hanamaki chewing his stolen food thoughtfully and flashing a thumbs-up and nodding, and then ducking as Matsukawa beaned him with the closest piece of rubbish at hand. It wasn’t too bad, though; Hanamaki had also taken to buying an extra cream puff for Matsukawa whenever he passed by his favourite bakery, so that was nice… although Hanamaki did steal bites from Matsukawa’s share of the cream puffs too, so Matsukawa wasn’t entirely sure what was the point. Still, he didn’t have the heart to discourage Hanamaki from whenever food-theft was happening, not when he had that dopey but very content look on his face as he ate his winnings.  
  
There was the non-competitive and less-silly side, too. Whenever they walked together, they walked more closely than they used to, with their arms bumping against each other’s. Occasionally after particularly strenuous classes or tests that did a blow to their self-esteem, they’d find each other (they always knew where to look) and without any proper words, just grumble with tired incoherence and sit back-to-back, or with their faces pressed to the other’s shoulder from behind until the end-of-lunch bell rang and they had to deal school again. Once, when they were at Hanamaki’s house and studying in the living room, Matsukawa fell asleep whilst using Hanamaki’s leg as a pillow. He looked so peaceful, curled up and chest moving slightly with his even breaths, that Hanamaki allowed him to nap for several minutes until he had to nudge him off because he was getting terrible pins and needles.  
  
They would be at each other’s side constantly and closely, and Oikawa would _definitely_ notice. The smug look on his face clearly said that he was proud of his good work, and they pretended not to pay attention. Their underclassmen in the volleyball club didn’t dare comment in front of the third-years; they only exchanged unsubtle, wide-eyed looks, and occasionally turned away and giggled amongst themselves like grade school children.  
  
It went on and on, and the closeness felt more natural with every passing day, and eventually, they got to a point where they weren’t sure whether they did all this because of their charade or because the close contact was just really nice.  
  
They would have been okay just staying at this level of intimacy, if that was even the right word for it… but it wasn’t meant to last.  
  
  



	3. Number One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOOO, let's focus less on the fact that it took me five-and-a-half months to update this, and more on the fact that this originally started out as a three-chapter fic, and has now grown into a five-chapter fiend, ey? Eyy? EYYYYYY? :D;;;;;

Hanamaki arrived at the school rooftop one lunch break to find Matsukawa already there and opening his bento. Matsukawa didn’t even react as Hanamaki sat down next to him, pulled out his phone, leaned in close, and draped an arm around his shoulders.  
  
“Selfie time,” he said. He held up his phone with the camera pointed at them both, and flashed a peace sign. “Smile.”  
  
“Why are we–”  
  
Hanamaki took the photo.  
  
It was a nice photo; Hanamaki grinning a sort of smile-smirk, and Matsukawa looking at the camera with a sort of confused curiosity that actually looked quite good.  
  
“Since when were you so photogenic, Issei?”  
  
“Delete that,” said Matsukawa impatiently. “Why are we doing selfies?”  
  
“This is another thing couples do,” said Hanamaki, tapping at his phone. “Oikawa has a photo of himself with Iwaizumi as his phone wallpaper, and since they’re our main couple-study reference, we need to do the same.”  
  
“That’s a terrible reason. I am doing no such thing.”  
  
“I’m sending it to you now.”  
  
Matsukawa’s phone chimed to indicate that he had received it.  
  
“I’m not setting it.”  
  
Hanamaki shrugged and kept tapping away on his phone. A short while later, he held it up for Matsukawa to see that he had set it as his lock screen’s background. “See, it’s a good photo; we look so boyfriend-ish and adorable. You set yours too.”  
  
“I am not having matching phone wallpapers with you.”  
  
“Come on, boyfriend.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Don’t be a such a spoilsport.” Hanamaki dived for Matsukawa’s pocket, but he swatted him away, and they quickly dissolved into a scuffle. About a full minute of wrestling later, Matsukawa had Hanamaki pinned to the floor with his long legs hooked around his, and his arm around Hanamaki’s neck in a firm headlock.  
  
“ _Get off me, you asshole!_ ” Hanamaki bellowed, except his face was smushed into the crook of Matsukawa’s elbow, so his voice came out muffled. A shadow loomed over them, and they looked up to see that Iwaizumi had arrived and was staring at them.  
  
“Wow,” said Iwaizumi with a deadpan expression that almost made them proud, “this is some really weird foreplay you’ve got going on–”  
  
“ _GO TO HELL!_ ” they yelled at him.  
  
Iwaizumi sat down and unwrapped his bread roll. “What are you doing, exactly?”  
  
“Taking adorable photos and being boyfriend-ish, but this dumbass isn’t co-operating,” said Hanamaki, still struggling. “ _Let me go already, I get the point!_ ” Matsukawa released him slowly.  
  
Iwaizumi reached over to picked up Hanamaki’s phone which was left lying on the ground in the midst of their wrestling match, and studied it before remarking, “This isn’t a bad photo.”  
  
“Are you kidding me, we look stunning,” Hanamaki deadpanned, shaking out his limbs.  
  
“Who does?” Oikawa arrived and plonked down next to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi showed him the photo, and Oikawa’s mouth split into such a wide grin that it was positively alarming. “Ooh, that’s a nice photo! You two look _good!_ ”  
  
Oh. Right. Oikawa’s positive reaction to the selfie reminded Matsukawa that he and Hanamaki still had this ridiculous fake-dating thing going on, and that setting a photo of them together as his phone’s wallpaper would actually help it along…  
  
It was ridiculous how often he forgot about the charade these days.  
  
He wondered if Hanamaki forgot as often as he did, too. Like when they joined hands under tables almost automatically whenever Oikawa was around, or when Hanamaki would find Matsukawa during a quiet break in their school day, and jostle him with his elbows as he slumped against him and put his head on Matsukawa’s shoulder, mumbling wordlessly; a warm and an increasingly familiar weight that was–  
  
Iwaizumi was nudging him. “Oi, Matsukawa! Come back to earth!”  
  
Matsukawa blinked and looked at him. “Huh?”  
  
“You zoned out. Are you okay?”  
  
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking of ways to get into his phone so I can delete the photo.”  
  
“I’m changing my passcode,” Hanamaki muttered, snatching his phone back from Iwaizumi and cradling it protectively to his chest.  
  
Matsukawa zoned out a few more times during the course of lunch, and by the time his friends had finished eating their meals, he was still only two-thirds done. His quietness had made Hanamaki antsy and caused him to change his passcode _twice_ , and he sat as far away from Matsukawa as he could without actually leaving the group.  
  
The rest of the day’s classes weren’t much better; Matsukawa barely paid any attention as the seconds crawled by agonisingly slowly. He did bump into Hanamaki again at the end of classes though, and as they fell into step beside each other, he vaguely noted that Hanamaki spent most of the way back to their shoe lockers throwing him suspicious looks and touching his pocket to make sure his phone was still there, as though Matsukawa was quick enough or stealthy enough to grab it without him knowing.  
  
He also noticed, once they retrieved their bags and began walking home together, that Hanamaki was walking further from him than he had recently. This felt oddly… uncomfortable.  
  
Matsukawa almost groaned out loud when he realised that it was because he had gotten so used to Hanamaki walking closely next to him and bumping their elbows together, that having him walk so far away was just plain weird and felt kind of cold and… well, a bit lonely too.  
  
He turned to him and opened his mouth to speak, but Hanamaki was faster.  
  
“Are you really that bothered by the photo?” he asked quietly. Matsukawa was surprised to find that he actually looked a little disappointed. “I’ll delete it if you really want me to.”  
  
“It’s… I… no,” said Matsukawa. He had actually forgotten about the photo until now. “I mean, it caught me off-guard at first, but I was thinking about… other things. I was joking about taking your phone though. You don’t need to delete it.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
He still looked uncertain, so Matsukawa pulled out his own phone from his pocket and tapped at it a few times, before holding it up to show Hanamaki his new lock screen: in the background was the selfie they had taken earlier. A slow but reassured smile spread across Hanamaki’s face.  
  
“You’re right, it’s a nice photo,” said Matsukawa, slipping his phone back in his pocket.  
  
“Yeah, it is,” Hanamaki agreed. He stepped close beside him and bridged the gap again, and their elbows bumped together, and it didn’t feel so weird anymore.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
If they did the break-up act, did that mean they would stop with the physical closeness?  
  
Matsukawa caught himself wondering about this the next day. He and Hanamaki were again sitting on the school rooftop in the second half of lunch (Oikawa was seeing the careers counsellor, and Iwaizumi was meeting with his English teacher), and sharing Hanamaki’s earphones and listening to music from his phone. The two of them had quite different tastes in music: Matsukawa generally liked soft rock, while Hanamaki liked much more upbeat pop songs, but that day, Hanamaki had added a bunch of songs from bands he knew Matsukawa liked.  
  
“You always complain that my music puts you to sleep,” Matsukawa remarked as one of his favourite Galileo Galilei tracks came on the playlist. Hanamaki shrugged.  
  
“I don’t _complain_. I never said it was a bad thing, right?” he said. “Your music is nice and mellow, but just not my preference because I usually like songs that keep me awake. I’m sleepy enough as it is during the day.”  
  
“Fair enough…”  
  
“And anyway, isn’t this a couple-y thing to do?”  
  
“Sharing music? I… guess? Friends do this too, though. _We_ do.”  
  
Hanamaki gave an exaggerated sigh. “ _Okay_ ,” he said, and wriggled closer to Matsukawa until they were squished up against each other, then slumped a little to rest his head on his shoulder, and linked their arms. “Is this better? Couple-y enough for you? Are we adorable enough?”  
  
Matsukawa laughed. “Yeah, I guess that’s… more like it.”  
  
“Aw man, now I’m _really_ going to fall asleep. Wake me up if I do.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“I’m serious. You’d be a terrible boyfriend if you just left me here. Hey, what’s this track? It’s nice.” Hanamaki turned up the volume a little.  
  
“It’s ‘ _Swan_ ’,” said Matsukawa. “Didn’t you listen to the songs before you threw them onto your phone?”  
  
“Nah, I just did it because I know you like this band.”  
  
“That’s weirdly considerate of you. What are you planning? What do you want? I already bought you a cream puff yesterd–”  
  
“I’m not planning anything! It’s just the nice and boyfriend-ish thing to do, isn’t it? _Urgh_ , you’re completely unromantic and hopeless.”  
  
“You know what, I think I really will leave you here if you fall asleep–”  
  
“Nooo,” said Hanamaki, burrowing against him and latching tighter onto his arm. “ _Mattsuuun_ , you’re so _meeean– no! I’m sorry! I’ll stop!_ ”  
  
Two tracks later, Hanamaki really did fall asleep, and with nobody around to pester, Matsukawa was lost in thought.  
  
Mainly thinking about how warm and comfortable Hanamaki felt.  
  
Would they have to forgo this when they “broke up”? They could still do this as friends—Matsukawa certainly wouldn’t mind if he was being honest with himself, but what would Hanamaki think? He probably wouldn’t mind either, but he might think Matsukawa wouldn’t want to, but how would they bring that up in casual conversation? ‘ _Hey I know we did the break-up thing already, but let’s half-cuddle still_ ’? Matsukawa was tempted to wake him up right now so they could discuss this matter, but Hanamaki looked so comfortable, and what kind of boyfriend would Matsukawa be if he woke him up so heartlessly? Anyway, they didn’t have to talk about this right now. Maybe later. Maybe they could talk about it when it was finally time to discuss their break-up act, which they _still_ hadn’t organised. Ah, there was so much to think about…  
  
“Mattsun.” Someone was tapping his arm gently. “Mattsun, Makki, wake up. We’ve got class soon. Hey, wake up!”  
  
Someone groaned softly beside him. Matsukawa forced his eyelids open and blinked in confusion as he saw Oikawa kneeling in front of them, smiling.  
  
“Good afternoon, sunshines!” he chirped happily. “The end-of-lunch bell is about to ring. Iwa-chan told me to see where you were. Come on, get up!”  
  
“Are you _kidding_ me?” said Hanamaki, sitting up straight and pulling his earphone from his ear. “Oi, Issei, did you seriously fall asleep too?”  
  
Matsukawa rubbed his eyes as they hauled themselves clumsily to their feet. “Um… I guess? In my defence though, I really didn’t just leave you here, so…”  
  
“You’re a terrible boyfriend _and_ a terrible alarm clock.”  
  
“Oikawa, next time, just wake me up and leave Takahiro here.”  
  
“ _Hey!_ ”  
  
Oikawa was struggling to fight back a smile. “I’ll see you both at practice later today?”  
  
“Yeah,” they chorused sleepily.  
  
“Unless Takahiro falls asleep and blames me for it,” said Matsukawa.  
  
“It’s not my fault you’re so comfortable to nap on.”  
  
“Well, it’s not exactly my fault, either…”  
  
Hanamaki head-butted Matsukawa’s shoulder in response before tucking his phone and earphones back into his pocket as they staggered towards the stairwell. They parted ways with Oikawa once they reached the third floor, muttering something about grabbing last-minute bites from the cafeteria, and he smiled sunnily as he waved at them. As soon as he was out of sight, Oikawa practically skipped towards his locker to grab his things, pausing there with his phone in hand, studying the screen and beaming.  
  
“Oikawa,” said Iwaizumi, coming up beside him. “Good timing, I need to borrow your textbook for maths next– what are you looking at?”  
  
Oikawa raised his head, and Iwaizumi actually leaned back a little as though weary of his alarmingly bright smile. “This photo! Look how _adorable_ they are, Iwa-chan!”  
  
“I can’t see a thing with you waving that in my face like– oh my _god_ , how did you get that?” Iwaizumi stared at a snap of Matsukawa and Hanamaki leaning against each other and napping on the school rooftop.  
  
“I took it when you sent me to get them, just a few minutes ago,” said Oikawa, gazing back down at the photo and looking like he was trying to hold back a happy squeal. “I’m so glad I went instead of you; you would’ve just kicked them awake and ruined their sweet moment.”  
  
Iwaizumi grunted, an odd look crossing his face. Oikawa’s smile turned a little devious.  
  
“What is it, Iwa-chan? Don’t you think they’re cute together?”  
  
“Uh,” said Iwaizumi, eyes flickering towards him. “Yeah, of course. I mean– I guess? Oi, what’s that look for?”  
  
“It’s my ‘ _I told you so_ ’ face. I did say so– _nooo!_ ” Iwaizumi had reached out suddenly to ruffle his hair.  
  
“So those two were just sitting there when you found them, sleeping?” said Iwaizumi slowly after Oikawa fended him off. Oikawa nodded eagerly. “Are you sure they weren’t just fooling around because they knew you were nearby?”  
  
“Why would they be fooling around just because I’m nearby, Iwa-chan?” said Oikawa, devious smile returning to his face. “They’re a couple, aren’t they? Eh, Iwa-chan?”  
  
Iwaizumi pinched the bridge of his nose. “A couple. Right.”  
  
“A _real_ couple.”  
  
“A… real… couple. Yeah. I’m just going to pretend I never saw that photo.”  
  
“Don’t be such a Grinch, Iwa-chan!”  
  
“A Grinch is for _Christmas_ , dumbass.”  
  
“You’re a Grinch _all year round_. You can’t even appreciate our dear friends being a cute couple like thi– _no! My phone! Give it back!_ ”  
  
Iwaizumi had successfully snatched his phone right from his hand. “I’m confiscating this.”  
  
“ _IWA-CHAN!_ ” They wrestled for a brief moment, but Iwaizumi managed to drop Oikawa’s phone into his blazer’s pocket furthest from him, and was successfully holding him at bay. “Iwa-chan, if you delete it, I swear I will literally cry _so hard_ –”  
  
“I won’t delete it.”  
  
“–and make you regret– you… you _won’t?_ No, I can’t trust you! Give it back!”  
  
“Behave yourself for the rest of the day and I’ll give it back at the end of practice, and I won’t delete the photo. Do it for our dear cute couple-y friends. I… can’t believe I just said that, urgh.”  
  
Oikawa huffed at him loudly and Iwaizumi pretended not to notice as he swiped Oikawa’s textbook from his locker and said, “See you later.”  
  
He strolled away. Oikawa’s protests filled the corridor, and students stared from one to the other. “I mean it! That photo better still be on my phone at practice! IWA-CHAN, YOU BETTER NOT GO AGAINST YOUR WORD!”  
  
Not deleting that photo probably helped Matsukawa and Hanamaki along with their couples charade, thought Iwaizumi as he entered his classroom and settled at his desk. But judging by that photo, he had a funny feeling that they didn’t really need his help anymore.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
By now, most of the students in their school knew about Matsukawa and Hanamaki dating—or, “dating”. This had, to their surprise, lead to a few broken hearts from girls who were hoping they’d have a chance with Hanamaki.  
  
After the third girl had told Hanamaki that she hoped he and Matsukawa would be very happy together, Hanamaki thanked her calmly before walking with Matsukawa to the school rooftop again for lunch that day, and he promptly broke out into gleeful laughter once they reached their usual spot.  
  
“This is _great_ ,” he wheezed. “This is working out perfectly! If we can convince everyone else, then we can convince Oikawa too!”  
  
“Aren’t you bothered by it?” asked Matsukawa slowly.  
  
“Bothered? By what?”  
  
“By people thinking we’re dating? Girls thinking you’re off-limits now?”  
  
Hanamaki now looked genuinely confused. “Why would that bother me?”  
  
Matsukawa returned his confused look. “Um…”  
  
“If it bothered me, I wouldn’t have gone along with this couples-act for as long as I have.”  
  
“I… guess…” Matsukawa couldn’t say much more, as at that moment, Oikawa and Iwaizumi showed up to join them.  
  
It was probably because this was just a charade, that it didn’t bother Hanamaki, thought Matsukawa as he watched him and Iwaizumi get into a play-fight after Hanamaki tried to steal an apple bunny from Iwaizumi’s bento. It wasn’t a permanent thing, they would stop this soon enough once they figured out their break-up act, and then girls could try asking Hanamaki out again.  
  
They would stop with the hand-holding and leaning on each other and comfortable naps together.  
  
That was okay. That was the original plan, after all: be convincing enough that they fooled Oikawa, scare him with a break-up act in order to teach him a lesson, and then laugh it off and move on like nothing had happened. No more worrying about Hanamaki stealing bites of his food or having to take silly couple-y selfies or holding hands. No more weight of Hanamaki’s head resting on his shoulder, no more _Issei_ and _Takahiro_.  
  
Yeah, all according to plan.  
  
(It was weirdly difficult, trying not to think about how comfortable it was leaning on each other like they had been doing lately, and how much he would miss that.)  
  
  


* * *

  
  
It was Saturday afternoon and Matsukawa and Hanamaki, on their way home after finishing volleyball practice, had come across a stray orange tabby cat that was sitting in the middle of the footpath and enjoying the afternoon sun. It blinked up curiously at them as they approached, and Hanamaki knelt down and tentatively ran a gentle finger over the cat’s head.  
  
“Aw, look at you,” he whispered, face lit up as he beamed at it, “you’re such a handsome fella, aren’t you?”  
  
Matsukawa snickered. He was used to Hanamaki dissolving into a cooing mess whenever animals allowed him to pet them (which was rare, but not for lack of effort), but he’d never tire of it.  
  
He crouched down next to the cat and held out his hand, and the cat immediately lost interest in Hanamaki and delicately stepped towards Matsukawa.  
  
“ _Why_ ,” said Hanamaki indignantly, “do they _always_ go to you?”  
  
Matsukawa grinned as he gently scratched the cat under its chin. “They can tell you’re a dog person.”  
  
“I like cats _and_ dogs!”  
  
“Aw, don’t be jealous just because this one likes me better, boyfriend.”  
  
Hanamaki just made grumbling noises as he watched him play with the cat.  
  
It was a picture of tranquility, like something out of a typical shoujo manga, only he supposed that the love interest in this scenario would be Matsukawa, which would probably make Hanamaki the cute protagonist. _Hmmm_.  
  
“You’d make a terrible shoujo manga character,” he muttered.  
  
“What did you say?”  
  
“Nothing.” Hanamaki pulled out his phone. “Hold still.” He snapped a photo.  
  
“ _Again?_ ”  
  
“I’m setting it to my phone’s second wallpaper, because that’s the boyfriend-ish thing to do.”  
  
Matsukawa rolled his eyes. “I’m not setting a photo of you as mine.”  
  
“I’m so hurt,” said Hanamaki distractedly as he tapped at his phone. After a moment, he held it out in front of himself so he could study it from a slight distance. “This is another really good photo. Look, you look so mellow.”  
  
“I give up.”  
  
“Cool.” Hanamaki continued looking at the photo for a little longer, eyes occasionally flickering towards the real person in front of him. Despite whatever he said, Matsukawa really did look very mellow and content, in both photo and real life, like nothing really bothered him at the moment. Seeing him like this made Hanamaki feel kind of warm and content too. It was all a very nice change from their busy week; just light banter, no play-fighting, no rushing… a quiet, warm, mellow moment between himself and his fake boyfriend.  
  
Hanamaki rested his chin in his hand and thought.  
  
They usually hung out together and were comfortable enough with each other that it was often easy to forget that out of them and Oikawa and Iwaizumi, Matsukawa was the quietest and the gentlest… which probably didn’t say a lot, given who he hung out with, but _still_.  
  
He was the tallest and looked the least like a high schooler. Sometimes people told him that his school uniform didn’t really suit him, and that often made him self-conscious until one of the others thumped him on the back and said something more reassuring. Hanamaki remembered that in the early days of their first year of high school, Matsukawa used to walk with a hunch, like he didn’t want to be as tall as he was, like he didn’t want to stand out. It was only after becoming friends with the rest of their current quartet that he began to relax and walk with a straighter posture. He still hunched a little out of habit sometimes, but it wasn’t as bad as it used to be.  
  
Hanamaki watched Matsukawa ease back to sit more comfortably cross-legged, before picking the cat up gently (they _never_ let Hanamaki do that, what the _hell_ ) and placing it in his lap. Matsukawa had changed a lot, he thought. He used to only say little when he had to, but he had come a long way since then. Now, he talked and bantered and roughhoused easily, and smiled a lot more. It was a good change.  
  
The cat began to purr.  
  
“Unbelievable,” said Hanamaki.  
  
“Aw, don’t worry, _darling_ ,” said Matsukawa, grinning. “There’s enough of me to go around.”  
  
“Oh, no, _honey_ ,” said Hanamaki sarcastically, “I wouldn’t dream that I’d be replaced by a cat.”  
  
“At least a cat wouldn’t sass me as much as you do.”  
  
“You sass back just as much!”  
  
“But a cat wouldn’t give me so much grief about it.”  
  
Hanamaki just made a face at him, and Matsukawa grinned.  
  
“And people say _you’re_ the mature one,” Hanamaki muttered.  
  
“Well they’re not wrong…”  
  
They really weren’t, thought Hanamaki as Matsukawa resumed stroking the cat, still smirking victoriously.  
  
Of their friends, Oikawa was usually the one who cooked up all sorts of schemes, and Hanamaki usually jumped on board with him right away, because why the hell not? Iwaizumi jumped in too but mostly so he could keep them out of trouble (but more Oikawa than anyone else) whilst pretending he wasn’t having fun half the time, and Matsukawa was the one swept along with their antics, and helped to keep Iwaizumi sane. Matsukawa was usually the more sensible (arguably) and composed of them all, so Hanamaki felt that dragging him into whatever harebrained thing they were doing next was something like a victory, even if Matsukawa didn’t often protest all that much.  
  
So for something like this…  
  
“Hey,” said Hanamaki, and Matsukawa looked up at him. “How did you come up with this idea? This fake couple thing. It seems a little… out of character for you.”  
  
“Oh.” Matsukawa looked back down at the cat and scratched it behind its ears absently. “I don’t really know… we were sitting in that couples café and the idea just hit me? It seemed to be the kind of stupid thing you and I would try to pull off. I doubt I would have suggested it if you were anyone else.”  
  
“So I’m your number one?” asked Hanamaki, feeling flattered. “That’s reassuring.”  
  
“I guess?” Matsukawa smiled dryly. “I do tend to have less of a filter and do more stupid shit when I’m with you, so that’s something.”  
  
“You’re a true romantic, boyfriend,” said Hanamaki sarcastically.  
  
Matsukawa snorted. “Don’t get too comfortable. We still need to figure out our break-up act.”  
  
“Any ideas on what we could break up over?”  
  
“i dunno. I could steal one of your cream puffs and you could get angry at me?”  
  
“That’s it? We’d break up over _that?_ ”  
  
“I’ve got nothing else.”  
  
“I’m not that petty!”  
  
Matsukawa didn’t reply.  
  
“I’m not!” Hanamaki spluttered, and Matsukawa's face cracked into a joking grin.  
  
“Shh, don’t yell so loud, you’re going to scare Makki away.”  
  
“I… you _named_ the cat? You named it _Makki?_ ”  
  
“He looks like you, don’t you think?” Matsukawa looked like he was fighting hard to keep from cracking up. “I bet you were a cat in your past life. It makes so much sense now that I think about: you steal my food, you love the cream from cream puffs, you nap everywhere and use me as a pillow…”  
  
“I’d kick you if you weren’t holding a cat right now.”  
  
“Has it occurred to you that that’s exactly why I’m still holding him? And _he_ won’t kick me, at least.”  
  
“You are unbelievable, you know that? I thought I was your number one, but I really am being replaced. Who’s our divorce lawyer? Yahaba? Kunimi?”  
  
Makki (oh, god) looked up curiously as Matsukawa began to laugh. Hanamaki had to look away as he too grinned.  
  
He wouldn’t swap Matsukawa for _anybody_. Nearly three years of banter, rough-housing, and just generally getting up to silly crap—he really couldn’t imagine doing all that with anyone else, not with the level of comfortableness that they had. Matsukawa was right; if it was anyone else, Hanamaki probably wouldn’t have been able to go along with this ridiculous scheme for as long as they had been doing, at least not convincingly. Not convincingly enough to fool Oikawa, nor convincingly enough to fool nearly all of the other students in school…  
  
Hmm…  
  
“Hey,” Hanamaki began again, “why aren’t there girls going up to _you_ and telling you they’re happy for us?”  
  
“Why would there be?”  
  
“Why _wouldn’t_ there be? Maybe your fans are surprisingly shy.”  
  
“ _What_ fans?” said Matsukawa after a snort of laughter.  
  
Hanamaki gave him a very confused look. “What do you mean, ‘what fans’?”  
  
“What do _you_ mean? You’re the one girls have been crying over.”  
  
“But… I can’t be the only one.”  
  
“Well, clearly, you _are_.” When Hanamaki continued to look confused, Matsukawa continued, “You’re not seriously surprised by your popularity, are you? Of course they’d be all broken up over you; you’re easily likeable and you’re more people’s type in general. They think you’re cool—somehow—and you’re fun and out-going and easy to talk to.”  
  
“But so are you.”  
  
“Nah, I’m not.” Matsukawa smiled a little. “I’m not as out-going as you, plus people look at me in my uniform and they think I look weird, so– _ow!_ ” Hanamaki smacked his arm with a little more force than usual. Makki gave him a disapproving look. “What was that for?!”  
  
“You look fine,” said Hanamaki sharply. “Our uniform has _brown plaid pants_ , for crying out loud—but you look fine, okay?”  
  
“I… what are you so upset about?”  
  
Hanamaki scowled a little. “People don’t know you like I do. If they actually went up to you and tried to get to know you better, you’d have a fanclub like Oikawa does.”  
  
Matsukawa huffed a laugh, but Hanamaki couldn’t see what was so funny. “Okay, now you’re just exaggerating.”  
  
“I’m _not_ ,” said Hanamaki indignantly. “I mean it; you’re great to hang out with, and you’re down-to-earth and thoughtful. You work hard and you’re reliable but you also know when to have fun. What’s not to like?”  
  
They stared at each other for a while; Hanamaki in confused impatience, and Matsukawa unreadable.  
  
Makki chose that moment to meow, remove himself from Matsukawa’s lap, and then set off down the street with his tail in the air. They watched him go until he climbed over a low fence and disappeared from their sight.  
  
“I don’t need a fanclub,” Matsukawa mumbled, suddenly very interested in picking strands of cat fur off his pants. “I have… enough.”  
  
“What do you mean ‘enough’?”  
  
“I have you guys as friends and… it’s enough,” said Matsukawa, before adding in a louder voice, “Ah, crap, my legs are falling asleep. Help me up.”  
  
“Seriously? We’re having a moment here.”  
  
“I’m in pain and you’re telling me off? Some boyfriend you are.”  
  
“It’s what you get for choosing the cat over me.” But Hanamaki held out his hands and Matsukawa, grinning, took them, and he hauled him to his feet.  
  
They continued walking the rest of the way, nudging each other and joking around. The topic of conversation had completely changed and was now back to their usual chatter about volleyball practice and trivial school things.  
  
But their previous talk was not over in the slightest.  
  
They had hit an unexpected kind of wall—a communication error of sorts, and they weren’t sure how to move from there, like it would be too awkward to talk about it if they kept trying to push themselves down that path, which was unusual because the word _awkward_ was all but non-existent to them. There was suddenly a lot to think about; Hanamaki’s protests and genuine confusion at Matsukawa’s apparent lack of popularity, and Matsukawa’s quiet ‘ _I have you guys as friends and it’s enough_ ’ all weighed on their minds, and took them down a very different direction to their usual carefree chatter. It was confusing and felt akin to mental whiplash; there was a lot to be said, but how to even begin? What were they even trying to talk about? How to even start trying to gather their thoughts?  
  
Well… it had been a long and tiring day; they could discuss it another time.  
  
They didn’t let go of hands until they reached the point where they split off to return home.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Hanamaki seemed to cling onto Matsukawa a little more than usual after that. Matsukawa supposed that it was mostly to do with their couples act, but there was now something different about the way Hanamaki leaned on him, held his hands, or sat close to him. There was a feeling of _protectiveness_ that Matsukawa didn’t really understand and was pretty sure he was just imagining, but… it was nice.  
  
He also began noticing differences about the way Hanamaki would answer whenever someone approached them both to ask if the rumours about them dating were true. Hanamaki would always beat Matsukawa to it, telling the bright-eyed students, “Yeah, Issei’s my boyfriend” but not like how he used to; he had gone from slightly smug affirmation at his and Matsukawa’s ridiculous inside joke, to a sort of _pride_ in his voice that Matsukawa only ever heard when Hanamaki was happy that someone was praising some aspect of the volleyball club.  
  
Matsukawa changed too, and he knew it; he had also started off with his own version of smug affirmation, but now it was a much warmer way of answering the curious people who asked him. He couldn’t help it. Nowadays, he would think of Hanamaki and how nice napping alongside him was, and all his words about what he apparently liked about Matsukawa, and his protectiveness and pride at being his so-called _boyfriend_ , and it would show through Matsukawa’s expressions and he couldn’t stop any of that welcome warmth that spread through his entire self.  
  
He _liked_ that feeling. No, he and Hanamaki weren’t doing the romance-y thing for real, but knowing there was someone close by who would willingly throw aside so much just to tumble down this ridiculous path with him? Well, it was a hell of a thing, and in the best way. He hoped Hanamaki somehow understood how much he appreciated all of this, despite neither of them knowing how to bring it up in conversation.  
  
“Are you okay?” Matsukawa asked quietly in the library. Hanamaki had his head on his shoulder again and he was running his fingers over the back of Matsukawa’s non-writing hand in gentle, random lines.  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little sleepy,” said Hanamaki. “See what I mean? You’re thoughtful. It’s nice.”  
  
“Okay, okay, _boyfriend_ ,” said Matsukawa with a little laugh. “I get it, thank you.”  
  
“You don’t get it.”  
  
“Well, hearing that sort of compliment from you is kind of weird.”  
  
“What’s weird about it?”  
  
A retort died in Matsukawa’s throat; Hanamaki’s voice had sounded a little too snappy to allow for joking around.  
  
“It’s just… different,” said Matsukawa vaguely.  
  
“I’m only telling the truth,” Hanamaki mumbled. “You won’t believe it, so I will.”  
  
“I’m just not used to you telling me all these things. I mean, it’s honestly really nice of you, and I’m touched and everything, but we never really do this kind of thing, so I don’t know how to react.”  
  
“You don’t need to react,” said Hanamaki. “Just don’t forget it, okay? You’re one of my best friends, and I’m not going to let you get away with thinking that you deserve anything less.”  
  
There was a long pause. Hanamaki’s fingers ceased moving at the back of Matsukawa’s hand and came to a stop on his wrist, like he didn’t know what to do with them anymore.  
  
“Okay,” said Matsukawa at last. “But I think I could let _you_ get away with–”  
  
“If you make even _one_ crack about the size of my ego, I swear I’m gonna–”  
  
Matsukawa began to laugh, interrupted by a grunt of pain when Hanamaki elbowed him in the ribs, and they promptly delved into a brief and quiet play-fight, stopping only when one of the librarians walked by and gave them a deathly glare, and they returned to their studying.  
  
On the opposite side of the library, Iwaizumi was sitting at a table with his chin in his hand and his fingers tapping the side of his face as he watched his friends. His English homework had been abandoned for the past ten minutes, which was the length of time he had been observing them, and they still hadn’t noticed him sitting there. He _really_ should get back to studying, but it was hard to so do with such a distraction within his line of sight.  
  
He thought about the photo that Oikawa had shown him, of Matsukawa and Hanamaki napping together on the school rooftop. He thought about the fact that they had originally asked him for help, but ever since getting the hang of hand-holding, hadn’t needed to do so, and seemed to be doing perfectly fine for themselves; the fact that this had been going on for a number of weeks now, and neither of them still had any clue what to do about their break-up act; the fact that their naturalness and comfortableness around each other seemed to be accentuated with every passing week, and it was obvious.  
  
_You know, they’d be cute together._  
  
Well, _cute_ was the very last word Iwaizumi would use to describe the two, but… they did make quite a convincing couple. A convincing _fake_ couple, but a convincing couple nonetheless.  
  
Iwaizumi thought about the fact that walking up to them right now and joining them for study would feel like he was invading a quiet and tender moment between the two—like he would be a genuine third wheel. They were so convincing that even he, who actually knew of their plan to get back at Oikawa, was somewhat fooled. Maybe he was wrong when he had snarked about them not being in the drama club.  
  
Or maybe…  
  
Nah, it couldn’t be (could it?); they hadn’t ever shown any real romantic interest in each other before in their nearly three years of knowing each other (had they? No, of course not), so it was unlikely they’d start now (admittedly, not impossible, but, well, unlikely). They were just good friends who were comfortable enough with each other’s presence that they could pull off a convincing fake relationship. Yeah, that’s all it was.  
  
Right?  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psstt, I have a [twitter](http://twitter.com/naffnuffnice) and a [tumblr](http://naff-nuff-nice.tumblr.com/)!


	4. The Mastermind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *arrives exactly 10 months late with Starbucks*
> 
>  
> 
> Btw, for readers from Tumblr, the events from That Sneak-Peek Snippet I posted ages ago ended up being shoved into the next chapter - sorry! I kept saying that I wrote myself into a corner and had to write myself out of it, welllll here is my writing-myself-out-of-it. Just letting you know so you are hopefully marginally less disappointed. ¯\\_(￣▽￣)_/¯
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter, everyone!

It had been two weeks since Matsukawa’s and Hanamaki’s meeting with Makki the Cat, and they still hadn’t discussed their heart-to-heart. It had been difficult to think of how to bring it up without anything to help prompt them, and even if they brought it up, what would they say? They had already said all they could that day, and anyway, they always had been people of actions rather than words, and this would probably never change, no matter how long they knew each other, no matter what weird schemes they got up to. They supposed there was little else they could do but to go with the flow and not overthink things too much.  
  
And so, they carried on. Hanamaki continued to stick close to Matsukawa and reassure him whenever he thought it was necessary, and Matsukawa knew for a fact that this was extremely beneficial to their charade—every single girl in his class had told him how cute he and Hanamaki were together, and even a handful of the guys had admitted that they were picking up hints on how to treat their partners better. When Matsukawa told Hanamaki this, Hanamaki had laughed until he cried.  
  
Initially, Matsukawa was at a bit of a loss as to what to do for him in return, because Hanamaki had always held himself up with a confidence and slight swagger that Matsukawa occasionally found himself wishing he also had. What else could he do for someone who was already quite comfortable with himself? Matsukawa could hardly be considered a good fake-boyfriend if he just sat there and didn’t pull his weight, right?  
  
For this reason, in the same vein of studying couples around the school (or, mostly Oikawa and Iwaizumi, anyway), Matsukawa took it upon himself to pay closer attention to Hanamaki in order to try picking up the small details that he hadn’t noticed before.  
  
It helped, too. He began to notice the differences in the way Hanamaki slouched because he was just walking casually compared to the way he slouched when he was tired (he tended to stare downwards a lot more if he was tired); the specific way his mouth would set in a firm line which meant that he was annoyed, even if his default deadpan expression gave very little away; paying attention to whenever Hanamaki was pushing himself too far for too long in volleyball practice (“Now you know how I feel,” said Iwaizumi); the difference between Hanamaki being stressed-cranky and hungry-cranky; figuring out exactly when Hanamaki wanted some alone-time, and when he didn’t want it anymore… 

And Matsukawa knew Hanamaki well enough that it was fairly easy to know what to do once he figured out what needed to be done. Gestures like keeping an extra chocolate bar in his bag to give to Hanamaki whenever he was hungry-cranky, nudging him to take a drink break or to finish up volleyball training for the day and refusing to give up until he agreed (“Okay, okay, _darling_ , I’m going, I’m going.”), or sending him a silly text out of nowhere with a joke or a kaomoji because he knew it would make him smile—these were all simple enough, but then there was everything else. If he could tell that Hanamaki was moody, then Matsukawa would let him lean on him and ask quiet questions until he could ease an answer for the moodiness out of him; if they had some free time together and Hanamaki was looking sleepier than usual (“How can you _tell?_ ” Iwaizumi asked. “He looks _exactly_ the same to me.”), then Matsukawa would beckon for him to scoot over and let him rest his head on Matsukawa’s shoulder until he dozed off comfortably; if he knew that Hanamaki didn’t want to be alone but wouldn’t say anything because he was feeling a little too prideful, then he would rest his own head on Hanamaki’s shoulder and keep him company. Okay, so a lot of it involved leaning on each other because they had both come to appreciate that very much.

“You’re up to something,” Hanamaki mumbled sleepily into Matsukawa’s shoulder during one lunch break. “You haven’t complained about me using you as a pillow for… _weeks_ , now, I think.”  
  
Matsukawa gave a soft huff of laughter. “Gosh, I’m so sorry I haven’t been complaining.”  
  
“It’s _suspicious_.”  
  
“I’m just trying to be a good fake-boyfriend. People think we look adorable like this, plus you’re getting some rest, so it’s a win-win.”  
  
“But yesterday you bought me a cream puff, _unprompted_.”  
  
“Hey, I’ve done that before! And anyway, I’m just trying to be nice; you’ve been really nice to me lately, so it’s only fair I do the same.”  
  
There was a pause. Matsukawa thought Hanamaki really had dozed off, until Hanamaki raised his head a little and said, “You know I don’t expect a… a _reward_ or something, just because I’m being nice to you, right?”  
  
Matsukawa flicked at his fringe. “I know that, dumbass. It’s just something I want to do. Trust me, it’s fine. And anyway, this fake-dating act is no good if it’s just one-sided.”  
  
Hanamaki squinted at him for a moment, before burrowing back against Matsukawa’s side and mumbling, “Thank you. You’re a good pillow.” And then he fell asleep shortly after.  
  
Though it had only been two weeks since he started doing this, it surprised Matsukawa how easily it became something akin to second nature, picking up these hints and acting accordingly, learning when Hanamaki was his usual confident self and when he wasn’t feeling so flash. He wasn’t completely sure if he was just imagining it or whether it was just wishful thinking, but he thought that Hanamaki did actually look more relaxed and a little happier these days (“No, seriously, how can you _tell?_ ” asked Iwaizumi).  
  
And it was _nice_ , knowing he was able to do something for someone who was admittedly quite important in Matsukawa’s life. With the right gestures, it didn’t take a lot for Hanamaki to be back to his usual fun, snarky self; in that sense, he was a reasonably simple guy. Matsukawa liked that about Hanamaki—always did, always will, probably.  
  
(Hanamaki’s faced eased into a tired smile when Matsukawa pulled a strawberry Kit-Kat bar out of his bag and tossed it to him on their way to volleyball practice on Tuesday afternoon. He tore open the wrapping gratefully and offered him half, which Matsukawa waved away.  
  
Yeah, thought Matsukawa, he always did like that about Hanamaki.)  
  
  


* * *

  
  
“I’m breaking up with you!” said Hanamaki as he shoved Matsukawa away towards the end of one lunch break. Matsukawa stumbled back. “This isn’t working out! I have no idea what we’re breaking up over but it’s happening! Don’t call me ever again!”  
  
“You have _got_ to stop watching bad TV dramas,” said Matsukawa, hopping to regain his balance. “I refuse to fake-date someone with terrible tastes in media.”  
  
“You can’t accept me for who I am, Issei!” Hanamaki continued to wail dramatically, pressing the back of one hand against his forehead with the other splayed over his chest. “My mother was right about bad boys like you!”  
  
Matsukawa snorted violently before gasping an “Oh my _god_ ” and then cracking up.  
  
“Great, huh?” said Hanamaki with a pleased grin, hands on hips. “I’ve been practising in front of the mirror. Why are you laughing, Issei? You’re breaking my fragile heart! Every night, I cry myself to sleep, knowing that our deep but forbidden love is–”  
  
“Stop, _stop_ –”  
  
“ _You’ve never taken me seriously!_ ” Hanamaki bulldozed on, seizing his arm and shaking him. “To you, I’m just a pretty face with an empty brain, isn’t that right? You’re only marrying me for my money! A cold man like you could never love–”  
  
“ _Stop it!_ ” Matsukawa ducked into a ball, laughing into his knees. Hanamaki crouched beside him.  
  
“You know, we could just ditch this break-up thing; it’s much more fun making you laugh,” he said, grinning.  
  
“I didn’t suffer through all this just to _drop_ it,” Matsukawa wheezed.  
  
“So being with me is _suffering_ , is that it, Issei?!”  
  
“ _Sto-o-op_ –”  
  
Hanamaki sighed loudly. “We’ve been fake-dating for weeks but I still haven’t been able to win you over with my humble country-boy charms– _ow! OW!_ ”  
  
Matsukawa tackled him and they wrestled playfully for a full minute before the bell rang, and they calmed down enough to collect their lunch things and head back to classes, nudging each other and snickering.  
  
They had been practising break-up scenarios like this for almost a week now… sort of. They had recruited Iwaizumi to give them advice, but after their first practice session, which ended with him walking away with a loud groan due to Matsukawa and Hanamaki falling over each other and laughing for a solid seven minutes, they decided to handle this one themselves. Most of their practice sessions had ended up this same way, though: one of them cracking up shortly after starting, which would set off the other, and nothing ever progressed.  
  
“It took us _ages_ to learn how to hold hands, so this isn’t a surprise,” Hanamaki had initially said. “We’ll do what we did before: take our time and learn slowly, observe other couples when–”  
  
“I am _not_ hanging around to watch people break up with each other!” Matsukawa had replied loudly.  
  
It was probably a good thing that they approached this break-up step with so much less urgency than their fake-getting-together, now several weeks ago.

“You guys are really having way too much fun with this,” said Iwaizumi by way of greeting one morning as he fell into step beside Hanamaki and Matsukawa on their way through the school grounds. They had been walking elbow-to-elbow with their heads bent together, snickering at a shared joke, and then leaning even closer as they walked past a small group of oggling girls.  
  
“Morning, Iwaizumi,” said Matsukawa, looking up.  
  
“We’re trying to be a convincing couple!” said Hanamaki. “How are we meant to be convincing if we _don’t_ have fun with it?”  
  
“Hmm…”  
  
“I don’t like the sound of that,” said Matsukawa.  
  
“Well, it’s just…” Iwaizumi shrugged.  
  
“Don’t hold us in suspense, Hajime-kun,” said Hanamaki, deadpan.  
  
Matsukawa grabbed his hand. “Tell us the bad news first, Doctor Iwaizumi,” he said. “How much longer do we have?”  
  
“Oh, boyfriend, I cannot live without you.”  
  
“I know, boyfriend, you’d be so lost.”  
  
“ _You suck at this!_ ”  
  
Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “I’m not Oikawa, you know; you don’t need to ruin my day like this.”  
  
“You _do_ know that by saying that, it just makes us want to ruin your day even more, right?” said Hanamaki, holding up his and Matsukawa’s joined hands and pulling them over to wave in Iwaizumi’s face. Iwaizumi swatted him away impatiently.

“You’ve been doing this for weeks, don’t you think it’s about time you pushed it forward a little more?” he said. “You’re going to be stuck at this point forever, otherwise.”  
  
“We’ve been practising our break-up scenarios!” said Hanamaki indignantly.  
  
“We’re pretty terrible at breaking up though,” Matsukawa admitted.  
  
“That’s why we’re _practising_ , boyfriend.”  
  
“Break-ups aside, I think there needs to be… _more_ ,” said Iwaizumi slowly. “Oikawa hasn’t talked to me much about you two dating—just once, I think? When he found you two napping on the rooftop? Anyway, him not talking about it isn’t really a good sign, so… what if you just straight-up told him? Confirmed it for him?”  
  
They stared at him, dumbfounded.  
  
“He _should_ know. We have been holding hands literally every time we see him,” said Hanamaki flatly.  
  
“Except when we’re playing volleyball,” added Matsukawa.  
  
“And even then,” said Hanamaki.  
  
“Even then,” Matsukawa echoed, nodding.  
  
Iwaizumi sighed. “You definitely have. You’d think Kindaichi would’ve gotten used to it by now, but _nooo_ …”  
  
“Bless him. He’s a good junior,” said Matsukawa fondly.  
  
“But what if you confirmed it for Oikawa?” Iwaizumi pressed. “Push it forward a little and really convince him?”  
  
“How much more convincing does he want us to _be?_ ” Hanamaki spluttered.  
  
“Which is why I’m telling you to mention it to him, so you can gauge from his reaction!”  
  
“I guess it wouldn’t be too terrible,” said Matsukawa. “It’s true, we haven’t really checked in with him about it.”  
  
“He was practically squealing when we started holding hands properly around him,” said Hanamaki.  
  
“But he hasn’t done that lately,” Matsukawa pointed out. “He’s been… weirdly calm about it…”  
  
“True…”  
  
“Look, if you tell him, just make sure I’m not around,” said Iwaizumi as they reached the school’s main entrance. “I honestly don’t trust myself to not give the whole act away, and I definitely won’t be able to hold back my sarcasm, so tell him when he’s by himself, okay?”  
  
“I can’t believe you’re throwing us under the bus like this,” said Hanamaki with a sigh. “Where’s your fighting spirit, Hajime-kun?”  
  
“Trust me,” said Iwaizumi grimly, “it’s better this way.”  
  
He looked so serious that neither of them had the heart to throw more banter at him.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
They got their chance the next day when they were studying with Oikawa in the library during the second half of lunch while Iwaizumi was seeing the careers counsellor. Matsukawa—who had lost to Hanamaki at rock-paper-scissors—cleared his throat pointedly, and Oikawa looked up.  
  
“Okay, so, uh… this is probably not a surprise to you, given we’ve been holding hands almost everywhere,” said Matsukawa, “but uh, just to clear the air, Takahiro and I… are dating.”  
  
“Yes,” said Hanamaki a little too loudly, grabbing Matsukawa’s hand. “Dating. Us.”  
  
“Clearing the air,” said Matsukawa. “That’s all.”  
  
“Mm-hm.”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
They looked at each other and nodded determinedly before looking back at Oikawa, waiting to see what he would do. Both felt their hearts sink when he rested his chin in his hand and made a playful humming noise, smiling slightly.  
  
“Honestly, I’m… surprised! I thought you two were just doing your usual joke-flirting,” he said mildly. “You know, like how you always hang off each other at volleyball practice?”  
  
Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s shoulders sagged and their jaws dropped and they stared at Oikawa like he had personally offended every single one of their ancestors.  
  
“Joke-flirting,” Matsukawa repeated.  
  
“That’s all you thought it was,” said Hanamaki, closing his eyes as though in great pain.  
  
“Well,” said Oikawa in that infuriatingly reasonable tone of voice he sometimes used, “you do the joke-flirting thing a lot anyway, so it was hard to tell, you know?”  
  
Matsukawa and Hanamaki made almost identical noises of indignation.  
  
“What about you running away whenever you saw us holding hands?” Hanamaki demanded. Oikawa gave a little laugh and ran his fingers through his hair sheepishly.  
  
“Well, at first, I _was_ really happy because I thought you really _were_ dating, but then I remembered your joke-flirting thing, and I thought, ‘Well! It’s _impossible_ for Mattsun and Makki to date for _real_ , right? They’re just friends, fooling around!’ So I calmed down.”  
  
“You calmed down,” Hanamaki repeated in a betrayed whisper.  
  
“We are dating,” said Matsukawa with gritted teeth and what seemed like a lot of difficulty. “Very, very dating.”

“We are dating so hard,” said Hanamaki with an equal amount of difficulty.  
  
“Well then, that’s great to hear! I’m so happy for you.” Oikawa folded his arms over the table and leaned forward, smiling brightly. “So, the both of you are _totally in love_ with each other?”  
  
“Ye-e-es.” Hanamaki drew out the word like it was foreign to him. “So much.”  
  
“Since we are very dating,” said Matsukawa, looking like he was fighting back a scream.  
  
“Incredibly dating,” said Hanamaki, looking like he had a colossal headache developing.  
  
“That’s so nice!” said Oikawa happily. “So do you tell each other that often? How much you mean to each other?”  
  
“Of course we do,” said Matsukawa. “Isn’t that right Takah– boyfr–… yeah?”  
  
Hanamaki just made a distressed wheezing sort of noise that seemed like a vague attempt at agreement.  
  
“Every day,” Matsukawa bulldozed on. “At least three times a day.”  
  
“Are you telling each other ‘I love you’ or are you taking medicine, Mattsun?”  
  
“He _is_ my medicine,” said Matsukawa without thinking.  
  
Oikawa and Hanamaki stared at him. Matsukawa looked up at the ceiling as though wishing something very large would crash down on him at that very moment, as heat creeped up around his neck and face.  
  
“Holy shit,” Hanamaki whispered. Oikawa made a violent noise that sounded like a mix of a sneeze, a snort, and a laugh.  
  
“Uh,” he said, standing up from his seat. “You know what, I, uh, I forgot I need to see… Inoue-sensei about… some chemistry thing. So I’ll see you both later, okay?” And with startling speed, he swept all his belongings into his bag and didn’t bother waiting for a reply from his friends before he dashed out of the library.  
  
There was a long pause. They _may_ have heard Oikawa bursting into laughter somewhere outside, but were too busy wallowing in their own mortification to dwell on it.  
  
“Don’t,” said Matsukawa after a while, still staring at the ceiling, “ _ever_ mention–”  
  
“I won’t if you won’t,” said Hanamaki hollowly. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually don’t have the heart to take the piss out of you right now. I mean, I was shocked into barely speaking half the time, so I don’t really have the right, but aside from that…”  
  
“Now matter how embarrassed you are for me, I can promise you I’m ten times worse.”  
  
“I love how empathetic our fake-relationship is. Very healthy.”  
  
Matsukawa sighed and leaned forward to slump onto the table and bury his face in his chemistry textbook.  
  
“You know, I think we should go back to our original ideas,” he mumbled into the pages. “Tying him to a tree on Mount Fuji was my favourite.”  
  
“I’m going to tie _myself_ to Mount Fuji for the winter,” said Hanamaki. He looked like a much older man. “That was terrible. It was so… I can’t believe… I can’t believe he thought we were just joking around!”  
  
“Well, to be fair,” said Matsukawa with another sigh, “we _are_.”  
  
“That’s– it’s– well, _yeah_ , but that’s not the point!”  
  
“Forget it. Let’s go find Iwaizumi and blame all our life choices on him.”  
  
“Good idea. He should be done seeing the careers counsellor already.”

They found him quickly enough, having a discussion with the captain of the basketball team about using the gymnasium that week. They greeted the captain briefly before hooking their arms through Iwaizumi’s and hauling him away unceremoniously.  
  
“Oh, for god’s sake… thanks Yamato, I’ll let Oikawa know!” Iwaizumi called out as the basketball captain waved at them with a bemused smile.  
  
Iwaizumi allowed his friends to drag him to a quiet spot near the home economics rooms before shaking them off and saying, “So… I’m going to assume that your talk with Oikawa went badly…”  
  
“He told us,” said Hanamaki grimly as they faced him, “that he thought we were doing our _usual joke-flirting_.”  
  
“Well, to be fair–” Iwaizumi began.  
  
“Don’t tell us that we _are_! We get it! But that’s not the point!”  
  
“What… okay, start from the beginning. What happened?”  
  
They told him in great detail. Iwaizumi couldn’t remember the last time he had seen them look so frustrated, and for all the times they had given him grief in the past, it was _almost_ satisfying, if not for the fact that he was getting dragged along for a ride that he really wished he played less of a role in.  
  
When they were done with their detailed recount, Iwaizumi looked at Matsukawa and said, “‘He is my medicine’? Really?” Matsukawa glared at him. “No, I meant… that’s what you’re so embarrassed about? You know you’ve done a lot worse just for shits and giggles, right? Why is this so much more embarrassing?”  
  
“Because– it– because that was _not_ for shits and giggles, that was totally out of our control!” said Matsukawa indignantly.  
  
“And our genius plan is going all wrong!” added Hanamaki.  
  
“Not sure I’d call it genius,” Iwaizumi muttered under his breath. “Well, what will you do now? Oikawa knows you’re _dating_ , so…”  
  
“No, you don’t understand, he was so _unconvinced_ ,” said Hanamaki.  
  
“And you’re going to… what, convince him you’re totally head over heels for each other?”  
  
“What choice do we have?” Matsukawa spluttered. “We need to up the ante!”  
  
“More? _God_ , my head hurts,” said Iwaizumi. “Look, the bell’s about to ring, so why don’t you guys forget about it for today, and figure out things later? Maybe you’ll get fresh inspiration, but give it a break for now.”  
  
“We don’t need a break, we need to abandon Oikawa on Mount Fuji,” said Matsukawa.  
  
“No, I was talking about me,” said Iwaizumi. “ _I_ need a break.”  
  
“Your fighting spirit sucks, Hajime-kun,” said Hanamaki, deadpan. But he and Matsukawa grumpily allowed themselves to be shooed away by an impatient Iwaizumi.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
The walk home had been awkward and quiet for Matsukawa and Hanamaki.  
  
It had been hard to look each other in the eye, and this was very unusual for those two, who were notorious for having no issues getting up in each others’ personal space. They hadn’t said anything to each other—just exchanged a wordless nod as they met up at their usual spot after school to walk home together. They hadn’t held hands or stood elbow-to-elbow with each other, and they hadn’t done any of their usual so-called _joke-flirting._ This distance felt wrong, like wearing a different skin. They were not strangers; they were close friends who knew each other well, so why…?  
  
It really was because their plan was going astray, wasn’t it?  
  
For better or for worse, Oikawa could be _frustratingly_ clever, and they knew this very well, but neither had been prepared for his cleverness to this extent. They had been so confident they could go toe-to-toe with him, only to have the rules of the game change right in front of them. Iwaizumi hadn’t been much help either, though they supposed that in the end, he was only there to lend them a hand—the rest had to be up to them.  
  
But every second of walking in this awkward silence felt weirdly suffocating, and it was honestly incredible, the sort of impact Oikawa could have on their relationship. Here was yet another barrier they had to get around in order to see their charade through, if only they could figure out _how_.  
  
“Okay, see you tomorrow,” said Hanamaki. Jolted from his thoughts, Matsukawa blinked and looked up; they reached the corner where they would split off to return to their respective homes. Hanamaki’s tone was cheerful, but Matsukawa knew him well enough to know when it was also forced. He opened his mouth to say something—anything at all—but found himself coming up blank. Hanamaki continued walking down his path without looking at Matsukawa and without waiting for a reply.  
  
“See you tomorrow,” said Matsukawa to his retreating back, too quietly for Hanamaki to hear. “Boyfriend. Or something like that.”  
  
He turned down his street.  
  
And then stopped.

No, this _sucked_. They had always been people of actions rather than words, but this time, they really needed _words_ , and no amount of running away would improve things.  
  
“ _Wait_ ,” he called out to Hanamaki. “Takahiro, _wait!_ ”  
  
Startled, Hanamaki turned to look at him. “What’s up?”  
  
“I don’t like this,” said Matsukawa abruptly, closing the gap between them in three long strides. “This… awkwardness. It’s not us, and I don’t like it. I think we both got so caught off-guard by Oikawa, it’s affected us. We should back up a little and calm down.”  
  
Hanamaki opened his mouth, then closed it again. His shoulders relaxed and he smiled a little, and Matsukawa could feel his own shoulders relax in relief. “Thank god. I was thinking the same thing, I just didn’t know how to say it,” said Hanamaki. “Stepping back a bit and rethinking our strategy sounds good.”  
  
“You’re…” Matsukawa hesitated, “okay continuing to fake-date, then?”  
  
Hanamaki made a soft, thoughtful humming sound and nodded. “I’m okay with it if you are. I mean, we’re really _waaay_ too emotionally invested at this point, but aside from that, I think it was actually getting kinda fun for a while? And I don’t want to lose you as my pillow just yet, I haven’t found anyone else who’s as comfortable as you are–” Matsukawa smiled, “–and I guess I _would_ still like to see how Oikawa would react when we finally do figure out the break-up thing. What do you think?”  
  
“Same here,” said Matsukawa. “I told you, I probably wouldn’t do this with anyone else, so I’d only continue with it if you want to. So… I guess we’re… still good?”  
  
“Still good,” Hanamaki agreed.  
  
There was a pause of a few seconds, before both broke out into soft, relieved laughter.  
  
“ _God_ , I thought we completely screwed up,” said Matsukawa.

“Honestly, I think it takes a lot more than that,” said Hanamaki. “Man, we’re so clingy. We’ve got this couple thing down-pat, to hell with whatever Oikawa said.”  
  
“I still can’t figure out what he wants from us. What do you think we should do now?”  
  
“Do more couple-study?” Hanamaki suggested. “Get inspiration from shoujo manga? I don’t know. Urgh, I hate to admit it, but Iwaizumi’s right—we need a little break. How about we just chill and forget about it all just for today? We can continue brainstorming tomorrow.”  
  
“I’m down with that,” said Matsukawa with a grateful sigh.  
  
“Do you want to come over for dinner? I think we’re having shabu-shabu tonight, and that ponzu sauce your mother made for us goes really well with it, so…” Hanamaki raised his eyebrows hopefully. Matsukawa smiled.  
  
“Sure, thanks. Just let me go home to drop off my stuff first and let my parents know.”  
  
“Then, I will see you soon, boyfriend.” Hanamaki gave him an exaggerated wink and a playful salute, and Matsukawa snorted with laughter.  
  
“Don’t _ever_ do that again,” he said.  
  
“It’s my country-boy charm, Issei!” Hanamaki called out after him dramatically as Matsukawa turned to walk home. “How could you be so cold?! My grandmother warned me about having my heart broken! _Mattsuuuuun!_ ”  
  
“Oh my god, Takahiro–”  
  
“ _Don’t leave me, darling!_ ”

Matsukawa broke into a run, laughing.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Iwaizumi wasn’t sure what to think.  
  
As he tapped the end of his pen against his cheek, he eased back in his desk chair and stared up at the ceiling, maths homework barely touched and not looking likely to be completed at this rate. It had only been a few hours since Matsukawa and Hanamaki had told him what had happened during lunch, and it had been on his mind ever since. Something was off and didn’t make sense—something glaringly obvious that he was missing and was refusing to see for some reason.  
  
He had assumed Oikawa hadn’t really noticed their friends “dating” each other, because if he had, he probably wouldn’t have shut up about it around Iwaizumi for more than a minute. He’d be bragging about it at every possible chance, saying how he totally _knew_ it, he just _knew_ they would be _so cute together, I told you so, Iwa-chan! You didn’t believe me!_  
  
But then, he had also called them a ‘couple’ when he was showing Iwaizumi that photo of them napping on the rooftop, and Iwaizumi just couldn’t believe that he would only mention it to him that one time. Oikawa’s flaunting in Iwaizumi’s face had been minimal, and this lack of it hadn’t made any sense, given how adamant he had been about Matsukawa and Hanamaki being a cute couple in the first place.  
  
Iwaizumi knew Oikawa—knew what he was like and how he worked. He knew that despite his flashiness, if people looked past him at face value, Oikawa had an admirable sort of _humility_ about him, and that meant that the times when Oikawa usually didn’t flaunt things, when he didn’t obviously take credit for schemes and excellent volleyball strategies and things like that, was… was…  
  
Was when he planned them himself.  
  
Iwaizumi dropped his pen and went still.

If Matsukawa and Hanamaki had fallen into a romantic relationship naturally without Oikawa intervening, Oikawa would’ve shoved that into Iwaizumi’s face at every waking moment.  
  
But if Oikawa had _planned_ for them to get together, he would’ve done the very opposite and be far more humble about it and not take so much credit…  
  
And then, there was…  
  
Iwaizumi thought about that photo of them napping together. He thought about the ease with which they hung off each other these days, even more so than usual—the transition from the first time they had held each others’ hands and looked like they would rather eat mud, to whatever they hell couple-y thing they had recently learnt to do. He thought about watching Hanamaki and Matsukawa from across the library and how convincing they really had seemed as a couple, and…  
  
_Oh_.  
  
“ _Oh my god, why,_ ” he whispered to the ceiling in horrified realisation.  
  
It was _all_ Oikawa. He had taken everything he knew about their friends and thrown them together into a perfect mix, in a way that only Oikawa knew how, and as a result… oh, _man_ , this was such a typical plot line used in romantic comedies, how had he not seen this happening before it even began? It should have been _obvious_.  
  
(Well, it was probably because Oikawa had brought it up first, which had made Iwaizumi a bit more stubborn and in denial than if he had discovered it for himself. Okay, so admittedly, that stubbornness wasn’t _entirely_ Oikawa’s fault…)  
  
What Matsukawa and Hanamaki had had before—that level of… closeness? Intimacy? What they had been acting out had not lasted, and Iwaizumi had a feeling they didn’t even know it yet. This whole charade would not last as just a charade. Maybe it wasn’t _meant_ to last, now that he thought about it. Matsukawa and Hanamaki dating—what a nightmare pair, but so perfect for each other: Matsukawa and Hanamaki, who were learning to read each other like books in all their subtlest hints; who cared about each other enough to know each other’s likes and dislikes and habits and hobbies almost as well as they knew their own; who were comfortable enough around each other to be able to pull this off to the point of convincing practically the entire student body of their school…  
  
Matsukawa and Hanamaki… dating? _Genuinely dating?_  
  
How had he not thought of that earlier, even before Oikawa pointed it out to him in the library, months ago? How had he missed how very _obvious_ it was?  
  
_You know, they’d be cute together._  
  
Iwaizumi buried his face in his hands and groaned.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
A short distance away, Oikawa was attempting to do his English homework but was constantly distracted by thoughts of his _adorable_ friends, and breaking out into muffled giggle-fits whenever ‘ _he_ is _my medicine_ ’ crept to mind. His work didn’t look likely to be finished at this rate. It had only been a few hours since Matsukawa and Hanamaki had told him they were ‘dating’, and it had been on his mind ever since.  
  
Maybe he was being a _little_ hard on them, but like hell he was going to let their amazing progress go to waste! They had come so far on their own and with minimal nudging from himself! He was so proud.  
  
It probably wouldn’t be too long now before they tried to do their fake break-up act, or _maaaybe_ they would drop that altogether and simply agree to date for real. Knowing Matsukawa and Hanamaki though, they would most likely go for the fake break-up path, because they were silly and stubborn like that. That was fine, Oikawa would prepare himself for it, although to be perfectly honest, he couldn’t think of anything they could convincingly break up over; they got along too well for that. Still, he supposed it would be interesting to see what they could come up with. And hopefully, after that was all done, his friends would look at each other and realise that they were really were a perfect match for each other.  
  
Oikawa sighed happily.  
  
He then heard the front door open, the voice of his mother and then another voice, which made him stifle a laugh, followed by the heavy pounding of footsteps. He looked up with a serene smile, just in time to see Iwaizumi burst into his room.  
  
“Hi, Iwa-chan!”  
  
“You _knew!_ ”  
  
“Are you staying for dinner?”  
  
“You planned _everything!_ “  
  
“English is so inconsistent, what the heck. Is your class up to chapter thirty-eight yet?  
  
“You are _unbelievable!_ ”  
  
“You should really do your homework, Iwa-chan.”  
  
“You set Matsukawa and Hanamaki up on a ‘date’ and sent them off together without telling them, you _knew_ they would figure out what you were doing and you _knew_ they would try to get back at you, and you freaking _knew_ they would end up actually being _closer_ as a result!”  
  
“Who, me?”  
  
“ _Oikawa_.”

“It was just a spark,” said Oikawa, now trying not to look too pleased with himself. “They had a spark, and I provided the little bit of igniting that they needed, that’s all.”  
  
“That’s– you– you’re so…”  
  
They stared at each other for a handful of seconds without breaking eye contact before Iwaizumi caved. He flopped onto Oikawa’s bed and gave a long loud sigh, mingled with several choice cuss words.  
  
“ _Iwa-chan!_ I’m gonna wash your mouth out with soap!”  
  
“I can’t believe I didn’t see it earlier,” Iwaizumi continued with a groan. “They— _urrgghh_ —They said that they would pretend to break up with each other in front of you to freak you out and make you think it was your fault for trying to get them together in the first place–”  
  
“I knew it!” said Oikawa, beaming.  
  
“–But they probably _won’t_ be able to do the break-up act because I, for one, can’t think of a single thing they’d break up over. Nothing that would be convincing, anyway.”  
  
“Mm.” Oikawa nodded happily.  
  
“You are incredible, and I’m not sure I mean that in a good way.”  
  
“I’m still taking it as a compliment. _Actually_ , I have a bone to pick with you!” said Oikawa, now turning his chair around until he was facing him. “You, helping them behind my back—what’s with that?!”  
  
“They asked me for help on stuff like holding hands and how to act like a more natural couple, so I agreed,” said Iwaizumi with a shrug. “Getting at you is always fun.”  
  
“ _Wow_. With a friend like you, who needs enemies?” said Oikawa indignantly. “And I can’t believe they asked _you_ , of all people, for romantic help!” Iwaizumi threw his pillow at him. “You know I’m right! You’re like the opposite of Cupid! What’s the opposite of Cupid? Anyway, you’re _that_.”  
  
“I’m an idiot, that’s what I am,” Iwaizumi groaned, staring up at the ceiling as though in pain. “Given it was _you_ who brought this up first, and given it’s _them_ being involved… I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming a billion miles away.”  
  
“It’s not that bad, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa exasperatedly. “I think it’s working out really well! Don’t you think they’ve been looking happier lately?”

“I can’t tell with those two,” said Iwaizumi stubbornly.  
  
Oikawa hit him with his pillow. “Yes you _can!_ Makki’s face actually lights up a little whenever he sees Mattsun these days–”  
  
“Nope, can’t tell.”  
  
“–And Mattsun’s been walking with less of a slouch and looks more relaxed–”  
  
“Can’t tell.”  
  
“–And they’ve been working even _better_ together than they usually do during volleyball practice!”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“ _Iwa-chan!_ Why do you have to be so stubborn?!”  
  
“ _Uggghhh_.” Iwaizumi covered his face with his arms.  
  
“And you call _me_ dramatic,” Oikawa muttered, turning back to his homework huffily.  
  
He worked in silence for a few minutes. He could practically hear Iwaizumi’s brain whirring the entire time, but Oikawa was a stubborn and patient young man who could be calm when the moment called for it, and he would wait until Iwaizumi caved and wanted to talk about–

“That photo,” said Iwaizumi, and Oikawa immediately dropped his pen and turned back to face him eagerly—honestly, his English homework was _infinitely_ duller than this scheme involving their friends. “The one you took of them napping together on the school rooftop.”  
  
“Yes…?” said Oikawa suspiciously.  
  
“If you showed that to anyone else, they’d probably say those two are dating.”  
  
“Yeah…?”  
  
“I’m the one helping them with this whole act and sometimes even _I’m_ convinced.”  
  
“Nice. And…?”  
  
“You’re the worst.”  
  
“ _Iwa-chan_.”  
  
“I can totally see them dating for real, and they would work _so horribly well together_.”  
  
“ _Right?_ ”  
  
“You’re a terrible but unfortunately brilliant mastermind.”  
  
Oikawa hit him with his pillow again. It was a sign of how busted Iwaizumi’s brain was, that he didn’t even bother fighting back or trying to yank the pillow away from him.  
  
“What happens now?” said Iwaizumi with a groan as he looked up at him. “They don’t know that you know. Hell, they don’t know that _I_ know this much. Holy shit, doesn’t this make me a double agent?”  
  
“Exciting, isn’t it?”  
  
“They’re going to _kill_ me.”  
  
“You’ll be fine! The end result will be worth everything.”  
  
“Including me getting killed?”  
  
Oikawa booped his forehead with the corner of his pillow in an oddly reassuring way. “They’re all talk, you know that. As for what happens next, well… we continue on,” he said simply. “We’ll observe them and act accordingly. Help me keep this up, Iwa-chan. Don’t give anything away, but help me _gently_ nudge them forward.” On his face was a small smile, and in his eyes, a cunning sort of spark. This smile was the type that Iwaizumi knew to be one of his most dangerous; it was the sort of smile that said that Oikawa was at his cleverest, most scheming, and most stubborn, and Iwaizumi knew that he would either regret it very much if he went along with it, or be very glad that he was involved in some way. There was no in-between.  
  
He sighed loudly, rued the day he ever met Oikawa Tooru, admitted to himself that he never actually ever regretted anything, promised himself he would never actually admit this to the mastermind, _ever_ , and said, “ _Fine_.”  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hajime-kun how could you


	5. Partners In Crime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have completely given up on having a set number of chapters, so I'm just going with the flow of the fic now. ¯\\_(￣▽￣)_/¯ Can you believe I actually originally thought this thing would only be 3 chapters long??? What A Fool I Was...

“Morning,” said Matsukawa with a slight smile two days later, as he approached the usual meet-up spot where Hanamaki was waiting for him so they could walk to school together. Given that Hanamaki was holding his phone horizontally, he appeared to have been playing a game as he waited for him.  
  
“Morning, boyfriend,” said Hanamaki distractedly. “Hang on, come here.” He paused his game, linked an arm with Matsukawa’s, and then returned to his screen. “Okay, let’s go. Lead the way.”  
  
Matsukawa snickered. “It would be so easy for me to just walk you into a tree or a sign, you know.”  
  
“You wouldn’t do such a thing, _boyfriend_ ,” said Hanamaki, deadpan, still focussed on his screen. “Ooh, maybe we can break up over that.”  
  
“I’d be the bad guy in this scenario, though,” said Matsukawa. “Can’t we share that responsibility? I can’t handle it on my own.”  
  
“It’s true, you’re not villainous enough,” Hanamaki agreed. “But hey, with the right amount of training, I think you’d be a great villain. Wearing a pinstripe suit, spinning around in an expensive desk chair, stroking a fluffy white cat… or maybe we can get Makki the Cat instead.” At Matsukawa’s snort of laughter, Hanamaki paused his game and looked up at him, grinning. “Oh man, I can picture it; you’d look _so_ sharp.”  
  
“Be my partner in crime,” said Matsukawa. “Like I said, I can’t handle the responsibility on my own.”  
  
Hanamaki gave a gasp and pressed his free hand to his chest. “Are you _proposing_ to me, boyfriend?” he said.  
  
“I am absolutely proposing to you, boyfriend,” said Matsukawa agreeably. “Hanamaki Takahiro, will you do me the honour of being my partner in crime and leading a life of villainy with me?”  
  
“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes, etcetera,” Hanamaki replied as Matsukawa snickered. “Seriously though, we’d be _unstoppable_. We can think of this fake-dating as training for like, a future heist or something. I don’t want to give him too much credit, but maybe Oikawa’s onto something.”  
  
“Speaking of…”  
  
“Nope, haven’t come up with any new ideas.”  
  
Matsukawa sighed. “Same.”  
  
Hanamaki put away his phone and straightened up, letting go of Matsukawa but still jostling him slightly as they walked closely. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out. Be optimistic for our future life of crime!”  
  
“You are _ridiculous_.”  
  
“You’re my partner in crime and you’re the one who just proposed to me, so who’s the ridiculous one here?”  
  
They continued nudging each other and bantering as they walked, enjoying this daily lull in their usually-busy schedules, these precious few minutes between home and school where they could just be themselves and not have to worry about scrabbling for each others’ hands at the first sight of Oikawa, and, to a lesser extent, all the other students. For both of them, it had become a welcome staple in their lives, and they did their best to enjoy each leisurely morning like this.  
  
But today? Today would be different. Today would a break in their precious moment of daily morning peace and easy bantering.  
  
  
(“All we need to do,” said Oikawa, “is _not_ do too much, actually. Too much interference, and they’ll figure out what’s going on. Subtlety is the key! But first, there’s another step that I want them to try to—”  
  
“There’s _more?_ ” said Iwaizumi with a groan. Oikawa nodded enthusiastically.  
  
“I think it’s only a matter of time before they get it,” he said. “Honestly, it’s not a _completely necessary_ part of the plan, but I think it’ll _really_ help push them along.”  
  
“I’m scared to ask.”  
  
“Well, you see…”)  
  
  
Today, in the middle of the footpath just outside the park where they always walked past, was a couple—a boy and a girl from one of the local junior high schools, judging by their uniforms—who were kissing _quite_ intensely under one of the trees. The boy had his arms wrapped tightly around the girl’s waist, the girl had her arms around his neck, and they were practically glued at the lips. It was like something out of a terrible, cheesy romance film, rather like the one they were stuck watching when Oikawa sent them to the cinema, which now felt like a lifetime ago.  
  
As one unit, Hanamaki and Matsukawa veered to the side to cross the road, dodging the couple who didn’t seem to have noticed them at all. Once they were at a safe distance, they looked at each other, and then looked away, now with their signature deadpan expressions on their faces.  
  
“ _No_ ,” they said in unison, with mutual agreement that they would draw the line there. They made their way through school without bringing it up once.  
  
And, of course, it weighed on their minds the whole time.  
  
As far as school days went, their respective classes were mellow enough, but by half-way through the day, both of them were mentally exhausted. Each tried to go about their schedules with the usual amount of semi-staying awake in classes and snark and rough-housing with their classmates, but whenever they bumped into each other in the corridors, and throughout the entirety of lunch, it was hard to look at each other in the eye when their minds kept flittering to the couple kissing near the park.  
  
They had not thought this through. And now that they were confronted with it, it seemed pretty obvious that they should have at least taken it into consideration. Holding hands and leaning to rest against each other—that was all well and good and admittedly really nice…  
  
But… kissing?  
  
( _What would it be like to kiss him?_ )  
  
At the end of the last period, Iwaizumi spotted Hanamaki walking back to his locker, and went up to nudge him.  
  
“Oi, are you and Matsukawa fighting?” he said in a low voice. “Or is this your, uh… _break-up act_ happening?”  
  
Hanamaki gave him a surprised look. “No, we’re not fighting, and we’re putting a hold on the break-up thing. Oikawa wasn’t convinced enough, remember? Why?”  
  
“Um… right. Well, you’ve both been really stiff around each other today. Did something happen?”  
  
“No, nothing,” said Hanamaki, thinking about the couple in the park and trying to keep his voice casual. “We’re fine.”  
  
Iwaizumi gave him a look that was part concern and part skepticism, but shrugged and nodded. “Okay, but let me know if you need my help with anything. I mean, I’ve already had to sit through you guys holding hands and being all gross and mushy, so I might as well—” He dodged as Hanamaki kicked out at him.  
  
Weirdly enough, that was helpful. Hanamaki felt as though a little weight had been lifted off his chest, and he resolved to talk things over with his partner in crime.  
  
The pair left school as they usually did, but this time, Hanamaki had one finger hooked firmly around one of Matsukawa’s bag straps, as though determined to make sure he didn’t run off. He was also walking slightly faster than their usual leisurely stroll, and Matsukawa was stumbling to catch up with him.  
  
“If I trip and fall and break a bone, it’s going to be super annoying to deal with, so slow down will you?” he said.  
  
“Don’t talk that way, dumbass,” said Hanamaki sharply. But he slowed his pace, still holding onto Matsukawa’s bag, and didn’t let go until they reached the park again, where they stopped and turned to face each other, but kept their gazes lowered as they scuffed at the pebbled path awkwardly with their feet.  
  
“It’s this morning, isn’t it?” said Matsukawa. “Kids these days…”  
  
Hanamaki snorted. “Oikawa might… expect it,” he said. “The whole kissing thing. Maybe _that’s_ what we have to do to convince him we’re a couple. But the fact that it didn’t even cross our minds…”  
  
“We’re total amateurs,” said Matsukawa with a defeated sigh. “I don’t think either of us thought the joke to go on for this long, huh?”  
  
“I feel like we’d waste everything if we just drop it now, though. That and we’d have to admit defeat to Oikawa, and I don’t think my pride could handle it.”  
  
“How does it all work?” said Matsukawa, scratching his neck absently. “How do they breathe? At what point do they come up for air? That shit’s _weird_.”  
  
Hanamaki stared at him. The look on his face changed, and it was slightly alarming; it became that of someone receiving excellent blackmail material. “You’re… you’ve never been kissed,” he said slowly.  
  
“I have so!”  
  
“Oh, yeah? When? Who did you kiss?”  
  
“That’s none of your business!”  
  
“Issei.”  
  
Matsukawa felt a weird spasm in his stomach at the sound of his name. He stared back at Hanamaki, who had his eyebrows raised and a shit-eating grin spreading across his face.  
  
“It’s not _that_ big of a deal,” Matsukawa snapped. “I’ve never been interested in anyone, so why the hell would I need to know anything about kissing for?”  
  
“Then, do you want to try?”  
  
A strangled sort of sound escaped Matsukawa’s throat before he could stop it. Hanamaki looked like he was trying very hard to keep from bursting into laughter, and Matsukawa felt a growing urge to sock him in the gut.  
  
“Not that long ago, you and I didn’t even know how to _hold hands,_ and now you’re telling me you know how to kiss people?” he said. Hanamaki shrugged.  
  
“We didn’t know how to hold hands with _each other,_ ” he said, “but now that I know I’ve got more experience kissing people than you, _of course_ I’m going to lord over it. In fact, I bet I could teach you a thing or two.”  
  
_Would kissing him stop him from talking?_ Matsukawa wondered. _Would punching him be more effective?_  
  
Punching him certainly sounded like the happier option, but the way Hanamaki stood there—hands in pockets, weight on one leg, head slightly tilted to the side, smirking widely (and Matsukawa became increasingly aware of the fact that it was harder and harder to avoid looking at Hanamaki’s lips)—kept Matsukawa from even balling his fists, and he couldn’t quite explain why.  
  
“I bet you’re a terrible kisser,” were Matsukawa’s next words before he could stop them, and there was a flicker of glee in Hanamaki’s eyes.  
  
“Challenge accepted,” he said, taking his hands out of his pockets and dropping his bag to the ground.  
  
“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”  
  
“Takes one to know one. Okay, come closer. This isn’t going to work if you’re standing that far away. No, _closer_.”  
  
“You sound like Iwaizumi.”  
  
“Don’t make things weird, Issei.”  
  
Matsukawa’s feet felt like stone and refused to move and bridge the gap. He tensed as Hanamaki stepped towards him with an air of exasperation— _oh god, he was standing so close_ —and grabbed Matsukawa’s bag and tossed it to the ground, then motioned for him to bend down a little which Matsukawa did, very slightly, and mechanically.  
  
“Tilt your head _down_ , dumbass, I’m not as ridiculously tall as you, so—what the hell are you looking upwards for?” Hanamaki seized his blazer’s lapel and yanked him down a little.  
  
Matsukawa’s breath caught in this throat. He could see every one of Hanamaki’s eyelashes, along with a small, light scar just above his eyebrow which Matsukawa vaguely remembered he had acquired during a volleyball practice mishap last year, and a tiny mole just under his right eye that he had never noticed before, and he felt his breath against his mouth, and his head was spinning, and—  
  
For as long as Matsukawa knew him, Hanamaki had always been a powerful wing spiker and a good athlete in general, and despite never being able to beat Iwaizumi at arm-wrestling, had arm strength that few others wanted to mess with. He kept pace with everyone, enjoyed a light-hearted scuffle, and was rough and sarcastic when it suited him, and he was one of the last people Matsukawa would’ve expected to be able to kiss like… _this_.  
  
Because it was as rough as one might expect of a kiss from someone like him, but it also had a soft edge to it that was also just so inexplicably _Hanamaki_ , that Matsukawa was pretty sure that he could have kissed a hundred people blindfolded and he would still be able to pick out which of them was him. The way he gripped his lapel, the way he _felt_ as he pressed his lips against his, the way he pulled Matsukawa close; it was all so typically Hanamaki, which made no sense because they had obviously not kissed before today, but it just felt so familiar, and so _right_ , and Matsukawa wouldn’t have minded staying that way for several more minutes, before a small voice at the back of his head reminded him of what was happening.  
  
He pulled back suddenly and took a deep breath of air. Hanamaki stared at him in mild surprise.  
  
“Well, that could’ve been a lot worse,” he said as he released Matsukawa’s blazer, speaking so matter-of-factly that he might as well have been pointing out a problem with their homework. “You’re blushing, by the way. Do you want me to pretend it’s because of the, uh… warm weather?”  
  
It was a cool breezy day and the sky was overcast and looked ready to rain.  
  
“It’s the warm weather,” Matsukawa mumbled. Hanamaki grinned.  


 

* * *

  
  
Neither of them had told Iwaizumi about the kiss, nor did they feel the need to do so. In fact, neither of them brought it up the next day, although this was largely due to Hanamaki briefly seeing Matsukawa only once down the corridor in the morning, and then not at all for the rest of the day. This was quite a feat given that they usually hung out together, took the same route to and from school (they didn’t _always_ walk together though, so Hanamaki didn’t think much of it when he didn’t see him in the morning, and only worried slightly when he was again absent in the afternoon), and usually had lunch with each other.  
  
It was only the day after that when Hanamaki saw Matsukawa in the corridor right after the start-of-lunch bell rang and was about to call out his name when he zipped away in a hurry, that Hanamaki figured it out. He rolled his eyes and gave him five minutes before heading down behind the school gymnasium. He knew that was where Matsukawa liked to go whenever he wanted to be somewhere quiet, and sure enough, Hanamaki found him sitting by himself on the steps of one of the back entrances that was always locked, hands in pockets, staring expressionlessly at a spot on the ground. He was in such deep thought that he didn’t even notice Hanamaki approaching until he stopped right next to him and cuffed him over the head, and Matsukawa looked up in surprise.  
  
“Oh,” he said.  
  
“Don’t you ‘oh’ me,” said Hanamaki impatiently. “You’ve been avoiding me all of yesterday and today, and this whole plan to get back at Oikawa isn’t going to work if we’re not together.”  
  
Matsukawa made an odd gurgling noise in this throat, and Hanamaki snorted.  
  
“It’s okay if you’re embarrassed about the kiss, dumbass,” he said, “but you need to get over it. Don’t forget, you brought up the idea of playing pretend in the first place, and we’ve sunk _way too deep_ for you to get cold feet now. We have work to do. Stand up.”  
  
“‘Work’?” Matsukawa repeated warily as he got to his feet with great reluctance.  
  
“Yes, because now, it’s your turn to kiss me. If we’re going to make this happen, we need to practise. No, scratch that, _you_ need to practise. Think of it like preparing for a volleyball game.”  
  
“ _This is nothing like a volleyball game!_ ” Matsukawa spluttered.  
  
“I am _trying_ to make you feel at ease, so just go with it!”  
  
“Why are you putting this all on me?!”  
  
“Excuse me, boyfriend, _my_ kissing technique isn’t the thing that needs work, as you are now _very_ aware.”  
  
“ _Technique?_ ”  
  
“Like I said: _volleyball game._ ”  
  
And they were right back to their usual bantering, and though they’d never tell each other, they were both glad for it. Matsukawa looked like a different person to the one who had just been sitting on the gymnasium steps and contemplating what his life had become, and Hanamaki was just relieved that he could make things awkward on his own terms again.  
  
“Come on, we don’t have all day,” he said, grinning. “Remember what I told you: come closer, and tilt your head down.”  
  
“We kissed _once_ and suddenly you’re the expert?” said Matsukawa.  
  
“I’m sure as hell better at it than you are.”  
  
“You are _not_.”  
  
Hanamaki’s grin widened. “Oh, really?” he said. “Okay then, Issei, prove me wrong.”  
  
The urge to punch him was coming back to Matsukawa, and it had never been so tempting. Cheek twitching a little, teeth grinding, and with his arms firmly by his sides, he stepped towards him and leaned in slightly, but was so stiff that Hanamaki snorted and had to fight hard to keep his face straight, with little success. After a handful of seconds of Matsukawa moving forward a fraction at a time, Hanamaki had to eventually turn away to double over laughing.  
  
“You _asshole_ ,” said Matsukawa, face reddening. “You’re not helping!” But this only made Hanamaki laugh harder.  
  
(It was honestly _nice_ watching him laugh like this, because Hanamaki had a nice laugh, but like he had said, they had work to do and Matsukawa knew that if he didn’t kiss him soon, he was going to lose all nerve and Hanamaki would never let him live it down.)  
  
With the look of a man about to leap into shark-infested waters, Matsukawa closed his eyes and took a deep breath and quickly counted backwards from ten before opening his eyes again. He reached out and grabbed Hanamaki roughly, fingers digging into the nape of his neck, thumbs pressed against the sides of his face, and he kissed him.  
  
Hanamaki went still, laughter dying in his throat. Everything was suddenly so quiet—the sounds of the other students in the school grounds, the construction work down the street, vehicles driving past on the surrounding roads—all drowned out by the sound of a quickened heartbeat that they could both hear, and, if ever asked, would each vehemently deny was their’s but with a touch of uncertainty.  
  
And it was peaceful. One of them shivered, but it was hard to tell who. Not that either of them cared at that moment. Not when they were kissing like this.  
  
Not that _this_ meant anything.  
  
It was just practise, after all… if ‘practise’ also meant feeling a brief but odd pang of disappointment in their chests when after a brief while, Matsukawa let go of him and they both drew away and took deep breaths.  
  
“Okay, that wasn’t too bad for an amateur,” said Hanamaki with a thoughtful nod. “Your technique is—”  
  
“You are _not_ my coach, dumbass!” said Matsukawa swiping at him. Hanamaki dodged, snickering.  


 

* * *

  
  
They practised kissing a few more times after that, which usually started with some ‘coaching’ tips from Hanamaki, and ended with him cracking up and making snarky comments like ‘have you been learning from watching bad soap operas?’ or ‘wow, you _almost_ managed to do it without blushing that time, well done’, and Matsukawa retorting in some way, or simply trying to push him over.  
  
“No, you’ve got to _relax_ a bit more. For god’s sake Issei, you look like you’re being force-fed something mouldy, and I’ll have you know, I am pretty damn kissable, so _relax_ and _lean into it._ ”  
  
“I haven’t seen you this excited since that bakery down the road started selling cream puffs.”  
  
“That’s because this is _really funny._ Look, remember that second time, when I made you kiss me behind the gymnasium? That one was good, so do it like that again.”  
  
“You said that ‘wasn’t too bad for an _amateur_ ’!”  
  
“Which is still better than whatever the hell you’re trying to do now!”  
  
And so the 'training’ went on. Over time, Matsukawa was getting a little better at it, but his level of embarrassment stayed constant, and Hanamaki was _very_ conscious of this, if the smirk on his face that Matsukawa occasionally caught was anything to go by. Matsukawa tried not to react so much—seriously tried _very_ hard not to give Hanamaki any more ammunition than he already had—but it was hard when all thoughts of keeping calm and composed simply flew out his brain the moment Hanamaki got too close.  
  
And it wasn’t like their kisses were all short kisses, either; they had _somehow_ made an unspoken agreement that Hanamaki would be the one to decide how long the kisses went on for, assuming one or both of two things didn’t happen: a) Hanamaki bursting into laughter, and/or b) Matsukawa losing his composure and pulling back first. In the rare moments that neither of these factors occurred, Hanamaki decided that, for whatever reason, most of the kisses would be slow and drawn-out. Once, Matsukawa was sure Hanamaki had made one particular kiss an extra long one purely to make things awkward, that _asshole_. He could pretty much confirm this when, after Matsukawa finally pulled away, Hanamaki grinned widely and said, “Oh my god, you’re coming up for air? What are you, a dolphin?”  
  
‘Breathing techniques’ were also something Hanamaki had ‘taught’ Matsukawa how to do, which was frankly ridiculous but for better or for worse, necessary, especially after the fifth time Matsukawa pulled away and took a loud gasp of air.  
  
“That is _completely_ unromantic, don’t do that again,” said Hanamaki sternly. “Breathe through your _nose._ I have been telling you this for the past _god-knows-how-many_ times.”  
  
“I am going to _kill_ you.”  
  
“No, focus on your kissing technique first. Think of these as breathing exercises to help you maintain your breathing during volleyball matches, too.”  
  
“How do you come up with this crap?”  
  
“I’m creative,” Hanamaki deadpanned, “unlike you. Come on, let’s try that again.”  
  
Hanamaki soon stopped letting Matsukawa pull back so much, too. He would have his hands clutching firmly onto Matsukawa’s blazer lapel, or threaded through his hair (“Don’t freak out, couples do this kind of thing. Did you learn nothing from couple-study? We suffered a lot for this knowledge!”) and Matsukawa would be unable to escape.  
  
For a while, Matsukawa also didn’t know where the hell to put his hands. Hanamaki refused to help him with that one: “Figure it out yourself! I’m not going to _metaphorically_ hold your hand, too!”  
  
Having his hands cupping Hanamaki’s face the second time they kissed had been okay, but that was completely spur-of-the-moment. Had it been too intimate? Holding his hands by his side felt awkward and unnatural, but putting them in his pockets felt weirdly rude—not that they cared about being rude around each other, but it just didn’t feel right—and they didn’t usually kiss close enough to walls or inanimate objects for him to rest on.  
  
So he tried using Hanamaki again. He began hesitantly curling his fingers around Hanamaki’s wrists, or gingerly holding onto his arms, and this sort of… encouraged Hanamaki, and he would kiss him back a little harder, which would make Matsukawa clutch him a little tighter.  
  
He had to regulate that, too. The first time, he gripped Hanamaki’s wrists so tightly that Hanamaki drew back from the kiss sharply and head-butted him.  
  
“Are you trying to cut off my blood circulation?!”  
  
“Will you give me a break?” Matsukawa wheezed, rubbing his forehead.  
  
“You need to _relax_ , dumbass! It’s me, you’ve known me since the first day of high-school! Why are you so worked up? _Chill_.”  
  
But Matsukawa would still find himself short of breath. He supposed a large part of that was _because_ he was regularly kissing one of his best friends.  
  
And the worst thing about all of this was that… _it was nice_. Matsukawa would openly call bullshit on Hanamaki’s apparent _expertise_ in a heartbeat, but there was no denying that he somehow knew a thing or two about kissing, and was damn good at it. And hell, even if it turned out that Hanamaki hadn’t ever kissed anyone else before, he would just flaunt that _‘obviously, I’m good because I’m a natural!’_ because that was exactly the kind of jackass Hanamaki could be.  
  
And honestly? Matsukawa wouldn’t have it any other way.  
  
(In any case, seeing Hanamaki have so much fun with this was… admittedly also nice. Completely at Matsukawa’s expense, but still nice despite this sacrifice of dignity.)  
  
Matsukawa wondered if he would flip out as much if he were kissing someone else—Oikawa or Iwaizumi, for example. He then quickly pushed that thought out of his head, because it was _just too weird_ , and he had enough weird crap going on in his life as it is. Kissing Oikawa or Iwaizumi was _really not okay_ , Matsukawa decided with certainty.  
  
Kissing Hanamaki was okay, though.  
  
Yeah. Yeah, it was okay.  


 

* * *

 

  
  
**To: ♡ Issei ♡**  
Hey boyfriend I’m concerned about ur kissing technique so I need to know if u have been doing kissing research???  
  
Because tbh u still suck  
  
  
**To: Hanamaki**  
Aren’t u meant to be studying with Iwaizumi in the library  
  
  
**To: ♡ Issei ♡**  
Gonna take that as a no  
  
I’m heartbroken ・゜・(ノД`)・゜・。  
  
  
**To: Hanamaki**  
Be studious instead  
  
I can’t fake-date someone who can’t pass their next chem test  
  
My mother would never approve  
  
  
**To: ♡ Issei ♡**  
Um hello this is me ur talking about?? Ur mother adores me in case u forgot???  
  
And I’ll pass the quiz but I’m setting homework for u  
  
For the sake of our deep special love u have to find and watch some romantic dramas tonight  
  
  
**To: Hanamaki**  
I’m gonna call Iwaizumi and tell him to make u study  
  
  
**To: ♡ Issei ♡**  
Write a report and hand it to me by lunchtime  
  
  
**To: Hanamaki**  
I don’t love u anymore  
  
  
**To: ♡ Issei ♡**  
Why are u like this  
  
Who made u this way  
  
Who hurt u  
  
  
**To: Hanamaki**  
Gonna call Iwaizumi  
  
  
**To: ♡ Issei ♡**  
I bet all this time u haven’t even changed my name in ur phone to something romantic have u  
  
  
**To: ☆Ta♡ka♡hi♡ro☆**  
I have so  
  
  
**To: ♡ Issei ♡**  
U took too long to reply that time which means u changed it just then didn’t u!!!!!!  
  
I can’t believe u could be so cold!!!!!!!!  
  
Omg ur actually calling Iwaizumi  
  
T r a i t o r ( ಠ益ಠ)  
  
  
  
“Why is Matsukawa calling me?”  
  
“No idea,” said Hanamaki a little too quickly, covering his mouth with his hand in a feeble attempt to hide his grin.  
  
“Ah, he hung up.”  
  
“Huh, isn’t that weird…”  
  
  
  
**To: ♡ Issei ♡**  
I can’t believe I’m fake-dating u ᕦ(ò__óˇ)ᕤ  
  
  
**To: ☆Ta♡ka♡hi♡ro☆**  
☆～（ゝ。∂）  
  
  
  
**To: Oikawa**  
Hanamaki’s texting Matsukawa and he hasn’t stopped smiling at his phone this whole time  
  
I’m gonna throw something at him  
  
  
**To: Iwa-chan☆**  
Don’t  
  
You  
  
Dare  
  
  
  
“How are things with the dating act, by the way?” Iwaizumi asked, shoving his own phone back into his bag with a barely suppressed sigh. “Have you both thought about what to do next? Have you figured out the break-up thing?”  
  
“One question at a time, motor-mouth,” said Hanamaki, still not looking up at him. “What do you what to know first?”  
  
“How are things? With the fake-dating, I mean. I’m not actually that concerned about your well-being.”  
  
“ _How_ are you as popular as you are, again?”  
  
“That’s something you’ll never need to understand.” Iwaizumi swatted away the eraser that Hanamaki lobbed in his direction. “Come on, don’t leave me in suspense.”  
  
“Things are… fine.” At Iwaizumi’s silence, Hanamaki glanced at him to see him squinting skeptically. He shrugged, pushed away his own phone, and picked up his pen. “I don’t know what else you want me to say. Things are normal. Or, as normal as they can be, given I’m pretending to be dating one of my best friends.”  
  
“It’s been a while since Oikawa threw you under the bus, so have you figured out what to do next in order to convince him?”  
  
Hanamaki dropped his pen and scrabbled for it hastily.  
  
“No,” he said. “Uh, well, we’re just… carrying on, and… yeah, it’s not much at the moment but we’ll… figure something out.”  
  
“Seeing that it’s _you two,_ you’ve been surprisingly calm about Oikawa taking the upper hand. You haven’t given up have you?”  
  
Hanamaki threw him an offended look. “Us? Give up? _Do you even know us?_ ”  
  
“Put it this way: you giving up on this act makes my life easier.”  
  
“And when have we _ever_ wanted to make your life easier?”  
  
Iwaizumi sighed. “That’s true.”  
  
“We’re gonna see this through and we’ve got this under control, so don’t worry your lil’ peabrain, okay?” Hanamaki dodged as Iwaizumi swiped at his head.  
  
“So you have no idea what to do next, but you’ve got this ‘under control’? What’s that about?”  
  
“You’re draining me here, Hajime-kun. I’m not gonna get Issei’s mother’s approval at this rate…”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Shut up. Study.” Hanamaki flapped his hand at him impatiently and turned his attention back to his textbook. “Chemistry awaits.”  
  
Iwaizumi stared up at the ceiling and sighed. “Why do I hang out with you guys?”  
  
  
  
**To: Iwa-chan☆**  
Soooo how’d it go? （・ω ´・）  
  
  
**To: Oikawa**  
Yeah I made sure they definitely haven’t given up  
  
  
**To: Iwa-chan☆**  
Nice going Iwa-chan!!!  
  
  
**To: Oikawa**  
Everything about this is still terrible  
  
  
**To: Iwa-chan☆**  
*·:.。..。.:*·( ´ ᗢ ` )·*:.。. .。.:·*  


 

* * *

  
  
“He has such little faith in us,” said Matsukawa as Hanamaki dragged him by his collar down one of the school corridors after classes were finally let out for the day. “My spirits are crushed.”  
  
“Right?” said Hanamaki as students parted for them. “Asking him for help hasn’t been the brightest of ideas. He’s the worst pep-talker.”  
  
“How is he as popular as he is, again?”  
  
“You know, my dear Issei, I was wondering the exact same thing, myself.”  
  
They made their way through the school grounds, towards the main road. Matsukawa somehow managed to half-hobble, half-crab-walk out without tripping over his own feet.  
  
“I’m getting a sense of déjà vu here,” he said. “You know I’m not going to run away from kissing practice, right? I have nowhere to hide. You literally know where I live, so you can let me go.”  
  
“Nope, I can’t trust you.”  
  
“This is not the kind of relationship I expected from us, Takahiro. We were meant to be better than this. My mother believed in us.”  
  
“Does that mean you'll do your kissing research homework, then?”  
  
“Hell no.”  
  
“ _So that’s how it is._ ”  
  
“I don’t have any good drama recommendations at the moment.”  
  
“Your excuses are weak in the face of our troubled romance and the Age of the Internet, boyfriend.”  
  
He let go of Matsukawa when they had reached the park they passed by every day. It seemed that by way of unspoken agreement, they had both decided that this would be their place to practise kissing. It was reasonably ideal: quiet, and with few people passing through, and they supposed the nice and calming scenery made it a little more atmospheric.  
  
“Hey,” Matsukawa began once he regained his balance. “I’ve been meaning to ask…”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“Would you kiss Oikawa or Iwaizumi?”  
  
“ _Excuse me?_ ”  
  
The horrified look on Hanamaki’s face was enough to make Matsukawa start laughing.  
  
“I’ll take that as a no.”  
  
Hanamaki grabbed Matsukawa’s face and squished his cheeks between his hands. “ _What happened to you, boyfriend?_ Why are you thinking about kissing th—”  
  
“I’m just curious,” said Matsukawa, swatting him away. “You’ve been so enthusiastic about kissing _me_ so I just thought—”  
  
“You’re my _partner in crime_. I don’t just kiss _anyone_.”  
  
“That… doesn’t really make sense…”  
  
“It makes _perfect_ sense,” said Hanamaki exasperatedly. “And to answer your question, I would sooner head-butt Iwaizumi than kiss him. Oikawa… maybe, but not likely. I can’t really see it happening. Seriously, did something happen?”  
  
“No, it just came to mind the other day and I got curious about what you thought.”  
  
“That’s… honestly, I haven’t really thought much about it,” said Hanamaki slowly. “Kissing you specifically, I mean. We kind of fell into it pretty naturally, didn’t we?”  
  
“Naturally? Is that what you call this?”  
  
Hanamaki rolled his eyes as Matsukawa snickered. “As naturally as we could’ve, given the circumstances. But what about you? Would _you_ kiss them?”  
  
“No. Too weird. Way too weird.”  
  
“Weirder than kissing me?”  
  
Matsukawa made a soft humming noise. “Yeah, definitely weirder. Kissing you was weird at first, but I… got used to it? I don’t think I’d ever get used to kissing Oikawa or Iwaizumi, though.”  
  
A wide grin spread across Hanamaki’s face. “So I really am your number one?”  
  
“I did not say that.”  
  
“ _I’m your number one_.” Hanamaki slapped a hand over his chest. “Our tragic, troubled romance might—”  
  
“ _Oh my god._ ”  
  
“—be saved through perseverance and the alignment of the planets!”  
  
“This is not a plot twist I agree to.”  
  
“Our story’s just beginning, boyfriend!”  
  
“You know what, I changed my mind. I’m running away after all—” Matsukawa made to turn around but Hanamaki seized his arm.  
  
“ _Don’t you dare!_ We still have to practice because _someone_ won’t do their kissing research homework, so we’ve got to stick to practical training for you! Urgh, you’re such a killjoy. Why am I fake-dating you again?”  
  
“Because… I’m _your_ number one? Oh my god, the shit I say around you…” Matsukawa buried his face in his hands as Hanamaki looked surprised for two seconds and then cracked up laughing, still clinging onto him.  
  
“ _Holy shit, Issei._ Between that just now and ‘ _he is my medicine_ ’—”  
  
“ _You promised you wouldn’t bring that up, you jackass!_ ”  
  
This just set Hanamaki off again, and Matsukawa, unable to keep a straight face, eventually joined him, and they were both reduced to grabbing onto each other for support as they howled with laughter.  
  
It was nice—another moment of bantering and fooling around together without having to worry too much about putting on an act around Oikawa. Things seemed to be getting more and more ridiculous the longer their charade went on, but as long as they had these moments, they supposed it really wasn’t so bad… maybe even fun.  
  
“If we’re not going to practice,” Matsukawa wheezed as they began to calm down a little, “then I’m going home.”  
  
“No, no, no,” Hanamaki gasped, wiping a tear away and pushing himself upright. “You’re not running away. Okay, focus. We can do this.”  
  
“Are you ready?”  
  
“Ready. Okay. _Hoo_. Okay. Tilt your head down, lean closer, breathing exercises—”  
  
“ _You and your breathing exercises—_ ”  
  
Hanamaki dissolved into laughter again, and Matsukawa followed suit shortly after.  
  
They didn’t get much practice done that afternoon.  


 

* * *

 

  
“Something’s changed with Mattsun and Makki over the past couple of days. It's subtle, but I think… I think they might’ve finally got it, Iwa-chan! Oh, come on, stop _groaning_ , this is _amazing_. I’m so proud of th—come _on_ , Iwa-chan!”  


 

* * *

  
  
Later on in the week, after yet another practise session (of kissing and volleyball, but not together; they hadn’t mastered the art yet (though they were pretty sure they were getting close), and refused to flaunt it in front of Oikawa until they were both ready, which, as Hanamaki reminded Matsukawa for what felt like the fiftieth time, _he was_ , but it was Matsukawa who still needed training), Hanamaki lay in his bed at night, wide awake, and unable to sleep.  
  
He felt weirdly empty, like he was meant to be doing something right now, but couldn’t because it was nearly one in the morning, and it made him horribly restless. He thought about calling or sending a message or a silly photo to Matsukawa, partly so he’d have someone to talk to, and mostly just to annoy him. He decided against doing so—he supposed he would be a terrible fake-boyfriend if he didn’t let Matsukawa get some sleep—but it was tempting.  
  
_Photo…_  
  
Frowning, Hanamaki reached for his phone and stared for a moment at the phone wallpaper of him and Matsukawa together ( _who the_ hell _let Issei look so good here?_ ), then tapped at it until he was looking at his homescreen’s wallpaper of Matsukawa and Makki the Cat (seriously, so nice and calming—even the lighting was perfect), and then tapped some more until he was in his photos folder. There they were—he had almost forgotten about the shots that Oikawa had taken weeks ago when he had grabbed hold of Hanamaki’s phone before practice, of most of the volleyball club members… but especially of Matsukawa.  
  
“Dumbass,” Hanamaki muttered, but he was unsure whether he meant himself (for forgetting about the photos), Oikawa (for pinching his phone and taking the photos, and for kicking off this entire absurd couples act), or Matsukawa (just because).  
  
Amongst the photos of the other club members fooling around, there was Oikawa with his arm around Kunimi’s shoulders and smiling his usual bright smile, Iwaizumi and Kindaichi flashing peace signs and making silly faces, Yahaba and Watari doing some sort of exaggerated dance pose, Oikawa getting beaned over the head with multiple volleyballs and attempting to look dignified as it was happening, and even blurred photos of Hanamaki returning to the gymnasium with his kneepads and lunging at the holder of his phone (Matsukawa) and trying to wrestle it back from him.  
  
Those photos made Hanamaki grin, but it was the photos of Matsukawa that he found himself lingering over the longest; Matsukawa pulling faces, Matsukawa ruffling the hair of various underclassmen, Matsukawa flashing peace signs, Matsukawa laughing… it was a face that Hanamaki was already familiar with and had recently gotten to (literally) know even better than he ever thought he would, and for _whatever reason_ , this brought about a warm sort of feeling in his chest that he tried to ignore.  
  
He wouldn’t mind practising kissing with Matsukawa right now, was the next thought to float through his head, which startled him, but not as much as realising why he had felt so weirdly empty and restless before: he had gotten so used to Matsukawa’s company and closeness, that him not being there right now felt foreign and somewhat uncomfortable.  
  
And this was all ridiculous because they were both at _home_ for crying out loud, they didn’t _always_ spend time together, why was he even _thinking_ about this, it was clearly the lack of sleep addling his brain, it was now _almost one in the morning,_ they had _school tomorrow…_  
  
“Dumbass,” Hanamaki muttered, and he was again unsure whom that was directed at, but it was probably himself. He slapped his phone back onto his bedside table, rolled onto his other side, and pulled his blanket back over him, and after almost another half an hour of lying there and trying not to think about kissing Matsukawa, he finally fell asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Birthday shout-out to my dear Meme Lord, [memorde](http://archiveofourown.org/users/memorde)!! I'll evennnnnnnnnnntually have proper fics gifted to you (HAHAHA☆) but for now... I hope you enjoyed this chapter?!


End file.
